


Can't See Me Lovin' Nobody But You

by hopeless_aromantic



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Confessions, Cuddles, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Kisses, Kissing in the Rain, Mutual Pining, One Shot Collection, Pre-Relationship, Reader Insert, background danbrey, background sternclay, gender neutral reader, gratuitous descriptions of moth wings, hand holding, long talks about earth, tags to be updated, time to Romance the Moth, touch starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2020-10-11 13:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 29,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20546888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_aromantic/pseuds/hopeless_aromantic
Summary: a series of Indrid Cold x Reader one shots, featuring cuddles and kisses and lots of lovey dovey feelings <3





	1. Autumn Sunsets

**Author's Note:**

> me? in love with indrid cold? it's more likely than u think.

Most of the crew at Amnesty Lodge has already headed inside for the evening, ready to enjoy one of Barclay’s famous home-cooked meals. Aside from Aubrey, Dani, and Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD, hanging out on the lawn, it’s just you and Indrid outside, relaxing on the lodge’s large porch. While you lean against the railing, Indrid sits on the steps leading to the front door, long legs stretched out in front of him. You glance surreptitiously in his direction, tapping your foot. 

As much as you consider Indrid a friend, you feel like you hardly know anything about him. He’s started hanging out with the other Sylvans and the Pine Guard more often since... well, since y’all averted the apocalypse... but he doesn’t talk about himself very much.

And you’re curious. For several reasons. 

“You are about to ask me something, but the question keeps changing.” Indrid’s voice startles you out of your thoughts, and you blush, looking away hastily.

“A-ah.” You laugh nervously, scratching the back of your neck. It’s not easy to hide your intent from him when he knows what’s going to happen. “I was just thinking, you know—”

“That you don’t know much about me,” Indrid finishes for you.

“Yeah.” 

“Ask me whatever you like,” Indrid turns to smile his slightly-too-wide smile, and you feel that familiar flutter in your stomach as his attention rests on you.

Trying to wrack your brain for a good first question, you walk over to plop down next to him on the steps. You could ask his favorite color, or what he likes to eat best; if he likes music, and if so, what kinds? You know nothing of his time on Sylvain, except that he was the Court Seer—you’d gladly take the chance to play twenty questions with him, but you aren’t sure what kinds of questions he would or wouldn’t feel comfortable answering.

“_Hmmm_,” you think aloud. You’ll just play it safe, for now.

“What’s your favorite season?” Both of you ask at the same time. 

You snicker at Indrid’s habit of predicting what you’re going to say, and he blushes a little bit, a hint of redness peeking out from under his glasses. _Cute_.

“Summer,” he answers.

“Mine’s spring,” you say. “But I guess you knew I’d say that, huh?”

As you ask, he’s already nodding. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like to hear it.”

His words lift a small weight off your chest, and you grin sheepishly. “Well. I’m glad to hear that. I honestly was... a little—“ 

“Worried that I wouldn’t enjoy talking to you if I knew what you were going to say?” He finishes for you.

You nod.

Indrid tilts his head, thinking, and the sunlight catches his signature red glasses, glinting brightly. “Put yourself in my shoes for a moment—if you could see what I see: a hundred possible routes that a conversation could take, patterns in every moment, wouldn’t you still be curious to see how it plays out?” He looks out at the autumn-painted woods as he pauses, and you hear the sounds of nature: birdsong and the last cicadas of summer, the wind in the pines, and the river somewhere beyond the trees. “I am not surprised often. But sometimes, on rare and precious—and quite frankly terrifying—occasions, something happens that even I could not have seen coming. And it is wonderful, as often as it is frustrating.” 

He smiles at you, and even though you can’t see his eyes, his gaze feels heavy and meaningful. 

You take a moment to think, letting his words sink in. “That makes sense. If I could see what you see... I guess the surprising moments would be best, yeah. But I also think... just knowing what would happen wouldn’t change the feelings those moments bring. Knowing what you’re going to say wouldn’t make me any less happy to hear you say it.”

His cheeks darken as he looks away once more, though the smile playing at his lips is obvious. “Exactly.”

In the silence that follows, you look out at the pine forest, and a breeze blows through the trees—you lean into it, closing your eyes in contentment. Today’s weather has been perfect—cool enough to wear a flannel and jeans, but not so cold that you need a coat or anything. Indrid, however, shivers slightly, despite his scarf and fingerless gloves. You hope it isn’t overstepping your boundaries to scoot a little bit closer to him.

“Cold?”

Indrid sits up a little straighter and clears his throat. You can’t see his eyes, but you’re pretty sure he’s avoiding looking at you, his lips pressed together in a nervous line. He doesn’t move away from you, though. “Well, I am ectothermic, for the most part.”

You smile. The mechanics of the magic disguises that the Sylvans wear are confusing at best, but you know how Indrid likes to keep warm—what with his hot ass Winnebago and all. “You’re in luck, then, ‘cause I’m like, super endothermic. I’m like a human space heater.” You lean against him, your side pressed to his.

It doesn’t take long for him to relax into your touch, the prospect of being a little less cold overriding whatever anxiety he may have at touching you. It’s nice; easy and comfortable and companionably quiet as the sun begins to dip below the treeline, casting your surroundings in oranges and golds.

It takes a while for either of you to speak again. “I know you’ve been on Earth for... a long time,” you say, watching the changing colors of the sky, “but do you ever get tired of this?” You gesture broadly at the scenery. “The beauty of it all, I mean. Nature. Earth.”

You can hear the smile in Indrid’s voice, even though you aren’t looking at him. “No, never. And I don’t think I ever will.”

You smile, too. “I don’t think I ever will, either.”

A few more moments of silence pass before your curiosity gets the best of you, but Indrid sees it coming.

“Do I ever miss Sylvain?” He asks, at the same time you do. “I do, sometimes. It is the place where I was raised, sort of like your home town is to you, but it does not feel like a place that I can return to. I chose to stay on Earth because I fell in love with it, and I do not regret that decision.”

You chew your lip as you consider how to respond. You have so many questions that you want to ask him, but you haven’t had the chance before now. And you certainly don’t want to ask something uncomfortable.

Indrid looks at you, and you watch as the breeze ruffles his unkempt white hair. “You can ask,” he says.

“You love it here, even when so many humans are afraid of your true form? Haven’t they been cruel to you?”

He hums in thought. “Humans aren’t the only ones who fear what they don’t understand. And besides,” he stands from the porch step and takes off his glasses, instantly turning into the moth man—he fixes his red gaze on you and clicks his mandibles together. “_You_ aren’t afraid of my true form.” 

Your face reddens as he slips the glasses back on and returns to your side with a smile. 

“No, I’m not. I always believed that bigfoot and mothman weren’t monsters, and I wanted to be friends with you a long time before I knew you.” You shrug. “I just couldn’t have predicted what you really are.”

“And what am I?”

You quirk an eyebrow, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “An alien with future vision and a magic disguise?”

Indrid snorts, and your mood soars, the butterflies (or moths?) in your stomach taking flight.

“That I am,” he concedes. “And technically, you’re an alien to me as well.”

“That’s dope as fuck,” you deadpan, making Indrid laugh again—but your serious expression cracks as you start to giggle, too. You haven’t really thought about it much, but he’s right—the two of you are aliens to one another’s world, to each other. It’s a little bit mind-boggling.

As your giggles die down, Indrid looks back towards the door to the lodge. “Ah,” he says with a tilt of his head, “there will be time for more questions later, but in about thirty seconds, Jake Coolice will come looking for us to tell us dinner is ready.” He stands with a stretch—and you try very hard not to check him out as his shirt rides up slightly—and turns to offer you a hand. “I’ll go tell Aubrey, if you want to head inside.”

With a smile, you let him pull you up, noticing not for the first time how deceptively strong he is—the full strength of his sylph form is there, just beneath his tall, lanky disguise. Your hands linger for just a moment in each other’s before you part, and a rush of heat sweeps over you from the small yet intimate contact. His long fingers brush yours as he pulls away, and you wish that you could see his eyes beneath his glasses, because you certainly feel like your own expression betrays a lot right now. Regardless, Indrid turns to gather Aubrey, Dani, and Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD, for dinner, and you head into the cheery atmosphere of the lodge to wash up before you eat, trying to ignore the tingling in your palm—the small remnant of Indrid’s touch that you know will linger through the evening. Or maybe even longer.


	2. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a nightmare, but luckily, Indrid is there to keep you safe. Established relationship.

_Something is chasing you through the woods, its footsteps coming closer and closer as you run and run and run, unable to speed up despite everything in you urging you onward. Your heart pounds in your chest as panic overtakes you—it’s going to catch you, you can’t get away, you feel its hot breath on your neck—_

Your eyes fly open as you gasp, and in the moment’s disorientation, you don’t know where you are or what is happening.

But someone’s hand is on your shoulder; someone’s voice is in your ear. Calming. Safe.

Slowly, reality seeps in.

“It’s alright, wake up. I’m here.” The tired lilt of Indrid’s voice pulls you back from the brink of panic, and you heave a shaky sigh of relief as you finally relax into his embrace, the two of you lying, still tangled together, in bed.

He shifts to let you curl up against him—your hands on his chest, grounding yourself with his familiar fluttering heartbeat—and props himself up on one elbow, his other hand draped over your shoulder, protective.

At the same time, the two of you whisper, “that was a bad one.”

“Don’t apologize for waking me,” Indrid smiles gently. “I know you were about to.”

You chuckle a little bit, beginning to shake off the fear of the nightmare. “Okay, I won’t. Sor—ah, thanks.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” His glasses are pushed up on top of his head, leaving his concerned expression unobscured. You must have been thrashing in your sleep or something, for him to be this worried.

You frown, tracing meaningless shapes and patterns on his chest with your fingertips. “Wasn’t anything new. Just a stress dream, you know? Being chased through the woods.”

“That seems to be a common theme,” Indrid muses.

You snort. “Yeah, wonder why.”

“Fair enough.” He squeezes you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and it makes your heart melt; worries forgotten as you tilt your head to look up at him with a soft smile. The look in his eyes—so open and full of love—makes you feel warm all over, and you can’t help but to meet him in a kiss, gentle and tired and safe.

You can feel the heat radiating off of Indrid’s cheeks as he smiles against your lips. His fingers trace a soothing line up and down your back, and he sighs, wistful, as you pull away.

“Are you alright now, dear?” He can’t keep the grin out of his voice, and it makes you blush.

“Better than alright,” you reply, a little sheepish, and bury your face in his neck. “Thank you, Indrid.”

He shifts his weight to lay back down, resting his chin on top of your head. “I love you,” he hums, and the warmth in your heart spills over and into your smile on his neck.

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: wakes up in the middle of the night after a bad nightmare, writes this, and falls back asleep  
this chapter was very short, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!  
hmu on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/)  
if you'd like to leave a comment, it would mean the world to me <333


	3. Blizzard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being ectothermic doesn’t lend itself well to snowstorms, but luckily for Indrid, you’ve got warmth to spare. Pre-relationship.

The vision comes upon Indrid an hour before it will happen, but far too late nonetheless. Until just now, there had only been a very slight chance of it happening, so he paid it no mind—but, he thinks to himself, he should know better than anyone else that probability isn’t everything. 

Indrid has no choice but to bundle up as best he can and leave the warmth of his trailer, braving the snowstorm to seek help.

Your power is out—has been for a couple hours, now. The blizzard currently blowing through Kepler, West Virginia is stronger than the meteorologists predicted, and it howls against your window as you hope in vain for the heat to come back on. Your old gameboy is almost dead—the little red light blinks at you tauntingly—so it’s probably best to just blow out the candles and go to bed. Gathering the blanket around your shoulders, you save your game and turn it off.

A sudden knock at your door makes you jump, and a twinge of fear settles into your stomach. Who on earth would be at your door this late, in a storm like this? You creep to the entryway as your heart pounds, half expecting to see nothing through the peephole—a wintertime ghost story come to life.

But, you see as you press your face to the door, there _is_ someone on the other side, and as realization dawns on you, you throw the door open quickly to usher your visitor inside.

Indrid Cold stands shivering in your doorway, his hat, earmuffs, and scarf all covered in snow as he nearly collapses across the threshold. 

“Indrid!” You gasp, catching him as he stumbles and kicking the door shut behind him to keep out the cold. “What happened? What are you doing out in this weather?”

His teeth chatter behind blue lips as he tries to smile. “I, ah, m-may have overloaded my g-generator with all my space heaters. I didn’t forsee it being a problem until t-too late. With the power out, my t-trailer will be too cold.”

He’s shaking violently, so you lead him to the couch to let him sit. You know how he needs to keep warm, being a moth and all, so this is probably very bad. Frantically, your brain turns to the essentials. He needs to get warm again.

“Your clothes are all wet,” you tell him, pulling off his soaked scarf, earmuffs, and hat. His white hair sticks up at odd angles, and if there weren’t more pressing matters to attend to, you’d probably find it incredibly endearing. You place the back of your hand against his cheek, sucking in a breath at the chill of his skin. You can’t see his expression behind his mirrored glasses, but he breathes a sigh of relief at your warm touch.

You kneel beside him. “Are your fingers numb? Does it hurt to move them?”

Indrid moves his arm stiffly, and you watch as he tries and fails to flex his gloved hand.

Worriedly, you bite your lip. “I’m gonna get your coat off and bring you something dry, okay?”

“Thank you,” he chatters.

It takes some maneuvering to get it off of him, since the cold has made his joints stiff and sore, but eventually you pull the sleeves free and toss it toward the door with his other garments. Under the jacket, he’s only wearing his usual tank top and jeans, but at least they’re dry.

You quickly wrap him in the blanket you had been using and rush to your room, rifling through your drawers to find an oversized sweatshirt and some fuzzy socks for him to wear. You also grab another blanket off your bed.

“How cold even is it out there?” You ask as you plop down beside him. The shivering hasn’t gotten any better.

“It’s below zero degrees fahrenheit,” he says. “But I can’t regulate my internal temperature well.”

“You’re ectothermic?” You frown. If that’s the case, blankets won’t do much good, since they only trap the heat that your body produces.

“F-for the most part, yes. My disguise is illusory—it doesn’t actually turn m-me into a human. And although Sylvain’s magic more or less anthropomorphized my ancestors, our method of metabolism stayed mostly the same. I k-keep myself warm by keeping my external environment warm.”

You nod. “Hence the space heaters.”

“Yes, hence the space heaters.”

“Well, then, you’re lucky you got here, because I’m endothermic enough for the both of us.” You give him a reassuring smile, though the blush that rises in your cheeks burns. Thank goodness the only light is from the flickering candles; you don’t think Indrid can tell. “Can you make it to the bedroom? It’ll be easier if we can lay down.”

“Ah, are you... sure?” His voice is hesitant, even through his still-chattering teeth. 

Either he doesn’t think you’re comfortable with cuddling him, or he doesn’t want to cuddle you; but it doesn’t really matter right now. He needs to be warm, and you have warmth to give.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” you blush. “But the best way to warm up is through skin to skin contact. That’s like, the first thing I learned from shows set in Antarctica.” You bite your tongue before you say something like, ‘although they usually say it’s best if you’re naked.’ The thought only makes your blush worse. You really hope there isn’t an alternate future where you said that bit out loud.

“As long as you aren’t uncomfortable,” Indrid says.

“I promise I’m not. I just want you to be warm.”

He nods, and lets you pull him up. He’s a little steadier on his feet already as you lead him to your bedroom, gathering the blankets and blowing out the candles as you go. The last thing you need is a house fire.

The two of you crawl into your queen sized bed, and you burrow under the covers and roll over to face Indrid. This close, with the reflection of your gaze in his red glasses, you feel the heat rise in your face and chest, a stutter of your heartbeat from anxiety at the prospect of cuddling your crush. At least you’ll have no problem keeping him warm.

You reach out, resting your hand against his freezing skin. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

Indrid only nods, but you feel the way he’s still trembling.

You want to wrap your arms around him and pull him close, fold your body against his until you can feel the beat of his fluttering heart against your chest. You want to share every bit of your warmth, of your_self_ with him. But those are selfish desires, ones you have no reason to believe could be reciprocated, and you would never use Indrid’s misfortune to get what you want—and you would never want anything he didn’t want from you in the first place. No, you think, as Indrid gravitates toward your warmth like, well, like a moth to a flame, you won’t think anything of the way his cold skin feels against yours. You won’t think about how right it feels to hold him, or how easy it would be to lean in and press your lips to his neck. This is like any other hug you’ve shared, platonic and chaste. Intimacy between friends, help for someone who was out in the cold for too long.

Indrid shudders as you place warm hands against his skin. He sighs into your embrace, and finally, finally, his shivering stops. Relief floods through you as the chattering of his teeth ceases.

“Better?” You whisper the question, hardly daring to break the fragile silence. 

His glasses have been knocked just a little bit askew, and you can see as he closes his eyes in contentment. It makes your heart hurt—it feels full to bursting.

“Better,” he whispers back.

With his eyes closed, you know he can’t see the smile that steals its way across your face, relief and joy and no small amount of love all filling up your chest and leaking out of your expression like a full glass of wine—the extra just spills right over.

You gently rub his arm with your thumb, almost absentmindedly, trying to bring warmth back to his limbs, and he melts into your touch like you’ve always dreamed he would. In turn, Indrid’s hand comes to rest against your hip, between the waistband of your pajama pants and the hem of your nightshirt. You tell yourself that his fingers against your skin means nothing, it can’t possibly mean something, but the pang of longing hurts nonetheless.

His skin is like ice, but you can hardly feel it through the blush over your whole body, fire in your veins from Indrid’s touch.

And as the wind howls on outside your window, the room is cast in silence. It’s quiet for so long, you’re not sure if Indrid is even awake anymore—his breathing is even and deep, in time with your own. Your temperatures even out slowly as Indrid thaws, and under the blankets and sheets, you relax into the warmth as the blizzard continues its rampage. You aren’t sure how long you lay there, with Indrid in your arms, trying not to stare but unable to stop yourself from peeking as your heart hammers away in your chest... but the heat and the darkness cast a spell over your senses, and eventually, you too drift off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey... did u know abt my ectothermic indrid headcanon....... its not like ive mentioned it in every indrid one shot ive written.........  
I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks so much for reading <3


	4. I Believe in Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a beautiful day for baking cookies, and Indrid has something to tell you. Established relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've literally been listening to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUY9Y9RFiHY) on repeat all day

Your kitchen is a mess of baking powder and sugar, mixing bowls in the sink and empty bags of chocolate chips littering the countertops, and in the middle of it all, you and Indrid are aproned, covered in flour and bits of cookie dough. Happy music pours through the wireless speaker across the room, and sunlight pours through the window. It’s a beautiful day, and you’re not sure you’ve ever been happier.

“People are always saying how eating cookie dough can give you salmonella because of the raw eggs,” you say as you beat the ingredients together in a large bowl, foot tapping to the music, “but that’s not even the biggest risk. You’re much more likely to get, like, _E. coli_ or something from the uncooked flour. Even then, though, it’s not very likely. Less than a hundred people have gotten sick from it in the last three years in the US, I think. So I’m gonna keep eating it...”

When you look over at Indrid, leaning against the counter casually in his flower-print apron, his glasses pushed up on top of his head, your words come tumbling to a clumsy stop. He’s staring at you with a goofy look on his face, and you get the impression that he wasn’t really paying attention to your tangent.

“What?” you pout at him, pausing with the mixing spoon held mid-stir.

He doesn’t stop his staring, his expression tinged with something soft and vulnerable that makes your heart flutter. “I love you,” he says simply. 

As you blink in surprise, the world falls away. The kitchen is gone; the whole house might as well have disappeared for all it matters to you, because in this moment—in this glorious, perfect moment—it’s just you and the love of your life.

Stupefaction gives way to elation like a flower blooming at triple speed, your smile lighting up Indrid’s world as you all but drop the bowl to embrace him.

“I love you too!” you tell him, because of course you do; because you have for a long time; because you’re sure that you always will.

With a breathless laugh, Indrid takes you in his arms, lifting you with that superhuman strength and spinning in a giddy circle before setting your feet back on the ground. There’s an impossibly wide grin on his face and devotion in his eyes; there’s red in your cheeks and laughter on your tongue--and then your lips are on his, carefree and enthusiastic as your hearts soar, hammering pulse meeting hammering pulse in a percussionist’s rhythm for two.

“Do you know,” Indrid says quietly as he pulls away just slightly, “that I never could have imagined this kind of happiness?”

With your arms around his neck, with the swarm of butterflies in your stomach, with the tingling of your lips, you know what he means. “Neither could I.”

“You are nothing short of a miracle to me,” he smiles so brightly that you’re blinded by it, by his feelings of love and how much they mirror your own. “And I don’t know how I can ever show you how much you mean to me.”

You twirl your fingers into his hair, pressing your nose to his in a soft bunny kiss. “Well, I don’t know how _I_ can possibly show _you_ how much you mean to _me_, but...” You cock your head in faux consideration, then give him a devious grin. “I think the way you were kissing me was a pretty good start.”

The way he laughs against your mouth sends your heart reeling, caught up in a tidal wave of emotions too strong to resist, and when he kisses you again, you all too happily let the riptide pull you under.

_Miracle_. You think that’s a pretty good word for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know that thing where you find a new song to associate with a character and then you have like, a billion ideas all at once? yeah. (i wrote this at work today a;sldkfjasldkfj)  
tbh you can read this as the first time he says he loves you, or just one of many!! whatever u want!! it's ur daydream universe, im just here to help ;)  
if u have a drabble request, feel free to send it on over to my [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/) and i might just get around to it! i can't promise that it'll get my writer's gears going, but if i like it i'll certainly give it a shot!! (be aware that i'm allergic to angst tho lol)  
as always, thank you so much for reading, and i hope you enjoyed this chapter!! <333 yall's nice comments mean the world to me!!


	5. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve been trying to build up the resolve to finally confess your feelings to Indrid. You’re honestly unsure of his feelings, but you feel like you’re being dishonest by keeping it a secret, as close of friends as the two of you are. He deserves the truth... but easier said than done. Especially when he can see the future. Getting Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes,,, u just start writing a kiss and it becomes a small fic,,,,

You bite your lip, feeling distinctly like this is a terrible idea. Your face is red enough already, and the possible worst case scenarios flash through your mind like a particularly embarrassing gag reel. But the possibility, faint that it may be, of Indrid returning your feelings is a lure in the darkness, drawing you in with its (probably imaginary) promise of happiness. Then again, if Indrid knows what you’re going to do, he hasn’t said anything about it—could he be hoping that you don’t say anything, after all?

“Are you alright?” Indrid asks, his lilting voice cutting through your depressing thoughts and snapping you back to reality. “You look awfully gloomy today.”

Internally, you grimace over your inability to keep your heart off your sleeve. You try for a laugh, but it doesn’t come out right, and Indrid frowns, concerned.

“I’m... I’ve got a lot on my mind, that’s all.” _Come on, just say it already_.

“If you’d like to talk about it, I’m all ears,” he says gently, and even though you can’t see his eyes, you think he looks even more worried.

Fear coils tightly in your stomach, and you sigh. _Bite the bullet_. “It’s just that... well, I’ve been... afraid to tell you this...”

Indrid stops walking, turning to face you and giving you his full attention. You look at the ground, kicking your boot along the leaf-strewn forest floor.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” he tells you softly.

“I know that, but...” you look up to try and meet his gaze, and you can see now that his cheeks have taken on a darker hue, his blush peeking out from beneath his glasses. Your nerves haven’t dissipated, but a nagging feeling at the back of your mind is telling you... “do you... know what I’m going to say?”

He nods.

Your voice nearly abandons you then and there. But he’s not making any move to stop you from saying it. That pinprick of hope inside you grows, even as tears of anxiety begin to build behind your eyes. “If you don’t want me to say it, I won’t.”

Indrid takes a step closer to you, and you have to tilt your head upward to look at him. “I... need to hear it from you directly,” he says breathlessly.

Your reflection in his mirrored glasses stares back at you, confused and hopeful. “Indrid, I...” _Now or never_. “I have feelings for you. Romantic ones. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way, I just felt like you should know, like I was lying by not telling you, and—”

“I have feelings for you, too,” he interrupts with a nervous smile. 

Your train of thought crashes, derailing in a spectacular fashion as you attempt to process what he’s just said. “You... you do?”

He nods, a smile beginning to creep across his face, watching the gears in your mind turning, turning, turning.

The anxiety in your heart lifts, replaced by something lighter than air—something like the sunlight that drips dappled from the autumn canopy above. Indrid _likes_ you. You like him, and he likes you too.

And the falling of leaves around you, all red and brown and gold, slows to a stop as you kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet you.

Indrid’s lips are as cool as the rest of his skin, the lack of heat starkly inhuman despite his disguise. Your own feverish blush makes up for it, though, the fierce warmth in your cheeks flowing source to sink and finding equilibrium in the meeting of your lips.

His surprise—something you cherish for its rarity—melts away, the tension in his body relaxing all at once as he eagerly leans into the kiss. His hands find your hips and he holds on tightly, the solidity of your body his anchor in the storm, his reminder that this isn’t just some vision, no; this is real. He tilts his head to a more comfortable angle and holds you closer. Even when you part for air, you remain pressed together—you’re sure he can feel the frantic hammering of your heart against his chest. Hell, it beats so loudly that he may even _hear_ it. But you don’t care; not when the happiness bubbling up in your lungs spills over into a breathless laugh against his lips; not when he smiles widely and whispers, “what?” and you can only pull him back, grinning through kisses that are less graceful and more teeth-on-teeth, bumping noses, missing mouths, and glasses in the way: messy and giggling and euphoric and _finally_.

And when the giddy laughter slows and finally comes to a stop, and you reach up and push his glasses up to unobscure his eyes, beautiful crimson beholding you with a softness you are utterly unprepared for, you sigh happily. Still mere centimeters from one another, Indrid rubs his nose against yours in a gentle bunny kiss.

His blush matches your own, and his voice is quiet and full of emotion as he says, “I have waited a long time for this.”

The warmth inside you surges. “Me too.”

“Can I, ah, ask you out to dinner tonight?”

You grin again, meeting his lovestruck gaze. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow 2 chapters in 2 days wassup??? im just in a real fluffy mood i guess!!  
on another note, ive actually been working on uhhhh a longer, very nsfw indrid x reader piece. when i post it it will be as a separate fic, since i'd like to keep this one sfw. but yeah. hold me to that. its slow going since ive never posted anything nsfw before.  
as always, i really hope you enjoyed this chapter! thank you so much for reading!  
hmu on [tumblr](http://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com) <333


	6. Fall Festival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s autumn, time to go on a date to the pumpkin patch! Established relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> houououogugoguhhhh i love halloween,,,,

The Fall Festival in Kepler, West Virginia, is an all-out affair; a celebration of everything autumnal and Halloween-related. Setting up for it takes days, and most of the town is involved with some part of it or another—there’s a pumpkin patch and a corn maze, apple picking and homemade cider and caramel apples, hayrides and haunted houses... in short, it’s a Halloween lover’s dream come true—and when the day finally comes, you’re as excited as you can be.

As you and Indrid arrive, bundled up in warm outfits to stave off the chill in the air, you immediately spot several familiar faces: Duck and Minerva are smiling and laughing with Aubrey and Dani, and Jake, Hollis, Keith, and a few other hornets are suiting up in costumes to run the haunted house. You wave to each of your friends as you pass, stopping to chat with a few of them as you make your way to the makeshift food court. You’re going to get some fresh cider and pumpkin pie before anything else—you haven’t eaten since breakfast so that you’d be hungry enough to try everything the festival has to offer.

Indrid, in his coat and scarf and fingerless gloves, holds your hand as the two of you walk, smiling gently and finishing your sentences with you. The atmosphere is lively and cheerful, and you both laugh easily, leaning into the comfort of casual intimacy.

“When I was a kid, my parents used to take me to the pumpkin patch every year,” you reminisce between bites of pie. “They always had a corn maze, and apple cider. This reminds me a lot of that.”

Indrid grins. “There certainly isn’t anything quite like this on Sylvain, although there were some seasonal festivals when I was young. And after I came to Earth, I could really only enjoy these things from a distance. Until now, of course.”

You give his hand a sympathetic squeeze. “We’ve got lost time to make up for, then!” You point your thumb at yourself, puffing up your chest in pride. “And you’ve got the best Halloween guide this side of the Mississippi to show you the ropes!”

“Lucky me,” he laughs, eyes bright with fondness.

The apple cider is pleasantly hot, the cup warming Indrid’s hands gently through his gloves. It feels heavenly as he takes a tentative sip, maybe a little too hot still, but worth it—sweet and comforting against his tongue. 

By the contented smile on his face, you’d say he likes it.

His mouth tastes like apples when you kiss him.

\-----

Haunted houses aren’t scary for Indrid, since jumpscares are no big deal when you know when they’ll happen, but he does appreciate the craftsmanship that’s put into them. He likes the general atmosphere; the fog machines and intricate costumes and props. And he really likes the way you cling to him when one of the hornets—dressed as a werewolf and painted with fake blood—jumps out at the two of you, whirring his (obviously fake) chainsaw. You scream, eyes shut as you hold tightly to his side, and he wraps you in a protective embrace with a smile. 

You’re shaking as you finally exit, but your eyes are bright with excitement.

\-----

Carving pumpkins is an art, not a science—and you’ve always been better at science. As you finish your carving job, a sad recreation of the mothman glares back at you, and Indrid laughs. “Is that supposed to be me?” 

You pout, scrunching up your face to squint at the pumpkin. “It _was_. It’s a little... lumpy, though. Don’t make fun!” 

His pumpkin is a beautifully carved scene of a cat arching its back in a hiss, a crescent moon in the sky above.

“I’d never,” Indrid says, leaning in to capture your lips in a mirth-filled kiss. 

When he pulls away, laughing again at your poor, ugly little mothman, you barely have the breath to say, “you’re still making fun!”

\-----

Stepping into the corn maze is almost like entering another world; the sounds of the festival around you fade quickly, swallowed up by the sea of dying stalks, and after the first few turns, you and Indrid are well and properly alone, surrounded by a silence that’s broken only by the occasional rustle of corn leaves.

“You... do know I know which way leads to the exit, right?” Indrid asks, smiling.

You grin up at him. “Yeah, but what fun would that be? You’re supposed to get lost in these.”

“There is a possibility that we will be stuck here for two hours,” he offers.

You swing your entwined hands and give him an exaggerated wiggle of your eyebrows. “That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Just the two of us?”

Indrid laughs. “No, it wouldn’t be bad at all.”

The next turn you take has you facing down your first dead end, and as you turn and head back to the last fork in the maze, you give Indrid a look that says ‘_don’t say it_.’ 

He doesn’t say it, instead grinning knowingly and allowing you to pull him further into the maze.

Pretty soon, you’ve taken so many turns that you no longer know which direction you should be heading, but you’re fairly confident that you’re... lost. The next dead end you reach looks the same as all the others.

You groan.

“Are you sure you don’t want a hint?” Indrid teases, but when you look up at him, prepared to playfully scowl and tell him you can figure it out, his expression stops you in your tracks.

His smile stretches wide, peeking out from above his scarf, and although his glasses obscure his eyes, you can feel the warmth and laughter in his gaze. His hand in yours is familiar and comforting, his long fingers wrapped around your own, and you feel the sudden and now-familiar pang of Cupid’s arrow shot straight through your heart. With a lovestruck grin, you pull him to the corner of the dead end corridor, looking at the tall stalks of corn all around you.

“What?” Indrid says, and then, “_oh_.”

Expression turning devious, you take his scarf in your hands, pulling him down to you while you go up on your tippy toes to meet him. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he holds you tight, letting you kiss him deeply as warmth flushes across his cheeks. Pressed together, in the silence of the corn, you’re sure you could stay like this for hours without anyone accidentally stumbling upon you—and with the way his lips move against yours, you’d really like to.

When you finally pull back with a breathless giggle and lead him back to the last turn, his hair is mussed, his glasses are skewed, and there’s a distinctly goofy smile plastered across his face. You’re sure it matches your own. 

“If this is the prize I get for staying trapped,” he laughs, following you around the next corner, “I’ll gladly stay lost for hours.”

You do make it out eventually, though, giggling with mischief as you pull Indrid back into the bustle of the festival, the sun setting in oranges and golds above you.

\-----

The tractor rumbles along with you, Indrid, and many of your friends sat on the hay bales arranged in the back. With your head on his shoulder and your arm wound around his, Indrid breathes a deep sigh of contentment, and you smile up at him. Aubrey and Dani are similarly snuggled up to one another across from you, and most of the Sylvans that live on Earth are happily chatting with each other, a few of the hornets, and some of the townspeople of Kepler. The last rays of the day’s sunlight shine over the pines, and a lightness bubbles up in your chest at the feeling of belonging that washes over you. As the chill of night begins to descend, you hold Indrid tight, sharing your warmth as you quietly talk.

“This was a good day.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he says, and when you kiss him softly, ignoring the whistles from your friends, you think that you’ve never been so perfectly happy.

Indrid, for his part, thinks the exact same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dwayne the rock johnson voice* what can i say except... im lonely  
a;lskdfjasldkfj this is another one that i wrote at work. you'd be surprised how little stuff there is for me to do when i literally work in one of the top children's hospitals in the nation *shrug emoji*  
As always, thank you for reading, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter! hmu on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/) <333


	7. Hugs From Mothman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working full-time is hard; luckily, you have a large, fuzzy boyfriend to help with stress reduction. Established relationship and cuddles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is how i cope with working 40 hours a week, folks.

You heave a sigh as you push open the door to your apartment, slipping off your shoes in the entryway as you cross the threshold. After a long day of work, you’re tired as hell—and _beyond_ ready to relax for the evening. As you enter, you see Indrid, as usual, sitting cross-legged on the couch in his ratty old tank top and boxers, and you wish, not for the first time, that you didn’t have a job that required you to dress business casual. He gives you a wave and a cheerful hello, but seems rather engrossed in his future sketches for the moment, so you simply kiss his forehead as you pass, heading to your room to wash your face and change into sweatpants.

As you change, the worries of the day begin to fade slowly, giving way to the comforts of being home with the man you love. You center yourself with a few deep breaths and a nice, languid stretch, and let the warm water wash away the rest of your stress as you gently scrub your face.

By the time you’re ready to head back to the living room, you’re already feeling much better, the comfort of your non-work clothes putting you in a better headspace as you walk over to flop down onto the couch next to Indrid, laying your head on his shoulder.

He, obviously, expected this, and he rests his own head against yours for a moment as he breathes a happy sigh. It makes your heart flutter.

“See anything interesting today?” You ask. 

He looks up from his sketchbook—a drawing of you laughing, your eyes lit up with happiness, is taking shape beneath his practiced fingers—and smiles fondly. “Not much of note, but, well. No news is good news.”

You hum, snuggling against his side and reaching out to flip through his drawings. One page shows Jake Coolice shredding powder on his snowboard, Keith close behind him as Hollis films them. The next is Duck Newton; a cat on his lap and a book in his hands. Then, a group gathered at Sylvain’s central crystal: Janelle and Alexandra and Aubrey and Dani among them. Everyone is smiling. Several pages have multiple sketches each: residents of Kepler going about their days as usual, Sylvans working together to rebuild their world, friends smiling and laughing and joking together. You flip the page again. Another sketch of you, and this time you’re sipping a cup of hot tea—clearly too hot, since you’re holding it with your sleeves over your hands to protect your fingers. The look in your eyes is mischievous, like you’ve just told a bad joke; the kind that makes you laugh and everyone else groan. The care put into this page is unmistakable, and you feel your cheeks warm as your lips curve into a soft smile.

“Indrid,” you ask, hesitantly.

You’re sure he already knows what you’re going to ask, but he lets you ask it anyway, even if the grin on his face lets you know his answer as surely as if _you_ were the one with future vision.

“Will you hug me, in your true form?”

The sketch pad is abandoned on the table before you’re even finished speaking, and his glasses join it soon after. Indrid transforms in the blink of an eye, and no matter how many times you’ve seen the change, it still renders you speechless, awestruck as you all but fling yourself into his waiting arms. His Sylvan form is huge—over eight feet tall if you count his antennae—and his chitinous exoskeleton is covered in a layer of downy fluff that feels like velvet beneath your fingers. You sigh in contentment as he enfolds you in his arms, and he chuckles, the low sound reverberating through your body like distant thunder.

“Did you have a rough day?” Indrid asks, the humor in his tone clear as day. 

You shrug, cocooned in his warmth. “Sometimes you just need a hug.”

He squeezes you tighter, and you bury your face in the fluff around his neck. When he laughs again, it warms your heart: every moment you spend with him, you fall more and more in love. The way he holds you, talks to you, understands you—it’s all enough to make you a bit misty-eyed as you nuzzle against him. How did you get so lucky?

“You’re not letting go anytime soon, are you?” He asks.

You hum, pleased with your current state and unwilling to change it. “Nope.” 

“Okay,” he humors you, bracing his arms under your legs, and when he stands, he holds you steady against his chest, strong and sure as he takes you to the bedroom. 

You look up at him with a smile and a quirk of your eyebrow.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to cuddle,” he says to the question in your eyes, “but you were going to say yes. I decided to skip the middleman, as it were.”

You stretch upward to press a gentle kiss to his mandibles, and you don’t protest when he flops down onto the bed, still holding you tight. (_Investing in a big bed was a smart move_, you think, as Indrid manages to fit on it, even in his Sylvan form.) He curls around you, wings fluttering behind him as he gets comfortable, and you wrap your arms around his neck tightly, giddy laughter bubbling up and out of your chest. His clawed hands come to rest against your back as he pulls you flush against him, and you hook your ankles around his, entwining your bodies like puzzle pieces, destined to fit together, to match, to complete one another.

At the same time, the two of you say, “this is perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” Indrid says, voice soft and loving and sending warmth radiating through your very being.

“_You’re_ perfect,” you shoot back, eyes crinkling with an impossible-to-contain grin. 

He nips you lightly with his mandibles, just to hear you giggle again. “I said it first,” he teases.

“No fair,” you pout. “I call future vision cheating! You always know what I’m gonna say!”

“I guess I always win, then, don’t I?”

You stick out your tongue in mock protest, but you know by now how to get the last word with him. You move your hand to rest it against his cheek—well, where his cheek would be in his human form, at least—and lean in to kiss his mouthparts. 

Immediately, he melts, putty in your hands as always, and he seems almost too dazed to respond when you say, again, “_you’re_ perfect, Indrid. I love you.”

But he does respond, his voice nearly too soft to hear as you close your eyes and snuggle against him; a quiet murmur in the warmth of the nest you two have made. “I love you too, more than anything,” he says.

And what can you do, except kiss him again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's one hug, michael, how many words could it take? 1200?
> 
> hooououuuuugghghhhh im so soft,,,, have i mentioned how much i love indrid cold????
> 
> as always, hmu on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/) <333


	8. After all, who could love a monster?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid can’t believe that anyone could love him. You know how to prove him wrong. (Confessions, first kiss, a little bit of angst with a happy ending)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *checks my watch* would you look at that, it's yearning o'clock!

“I—I must seem like a monster to you.” The confidence with which Indrid usually moves is noticeably absent, and he seems small, folded in on himself in a way that makes your heart ache. With his eyes uncovered, glasses on top of his head, he seems vulnerable, the protection they afford him stripped away, leaving his true feelings bare.

Whatever you expected him to say when you tried to confess your feelings... it wasn’t this.

Your eyes soften as you take a step forward; so close, and yet an uncrossable ocean apart. “Oh, Indrid,” you breathe.

The atmosphere is heavy with clouds, the pine trees all around sheltering you from the rising wind. You watch as a breeze ruffles Indrid’s hair, mussing it gently and revealing more of his dark roots.

He doesn’t look at you, his hands balled into fists at his sides. You want so badly to wrap your arms around him, to make him understand how you feel, but you think he would bolt before you got the chance. This is delicate.

“You’re wrong,” you say gently. “Everyone who has ever made you feel this way, like—like you’re something to be afraid of, or—or unlovable or something, they’re wrong.” You take another tentative step forward, and when he doesn’t move, another. Inches and miles away, you look up at him, and he finally meets your gaze, his red eyes glowing softly with something akin to desperation, something that says _keep going, keep talking_, and _please_.

His voice is whisper-soft, his expression anguished. “You can’t,” he says.

“Can’t what?” You ask. “Can’t love you? Because I do.”

He makes a choked sound—surprise, maybe, although he has to have seen this coming.

“Indrid, I swear to you, I wouldn’t lie. I mean it—I love you. You’re incredible, and beautiful, and I’m so happy to just be around you.” You place your hand gently on his arm, and although he flinches slightly, he doesn’t pull away. “If you don’t want this, I’ll understand. If you don’t feel the same way, I get it. But if the only reason that you’re hesitating is that you don’t think you’re... worthy, or you can’t believe that I’m serious, then... let me prove it to you. Let me prove my feelings, and that you’re deserving of them.”

Indrid’s already flushed cheeks darken, his blush spreading across his face and down his neck. It’s captivating, mesmerizing, hypnotizing; the way his eyes drift to your lips before snapping back up to meet your stare.

“If you don’t believe me, look at the future. If there is even one possibility that I’ll hurt you, or that I don’t mean it, then tell me. But I know there isn’t.”

A beat of silence. 

“And if I hurt you?” He whispers.

You give a small laugh, eyes crinkling at the impossibility of the idea. “You won’t. I know you won’t.”

He can’t seem to stop himself from leaning down, and those miles condense into centimeters so suddenly that it leaves you breathless and dizzy, trapped in his reddish gaze, ready to follow that light like a will-o’-the-wisp wherever it goes. 

“Please,” you beg. “Please tell me you want this. That this isn’t just me.”

His whisper is hoarse and ragged, raw with emotion as he finally, finally admits, “I want this so badly, it hurts.”

And you kiss him.

You’ve never understood when people talk about “sparks” or “fireworks” before; kissing is nice, sure, but those descriptions seemed like an obvious hyperbole—but now, when you feel Indrid’s lips meet yours, you understand. Your skin is alight with the feeling of his touch, every nerve in your body a live wire, buzzing with want, with the euphoria of _being_ wanted. You could get lost in this feeling and never return to reality.

He pulls away too soon, and the loss of the soft coolness of his lips is agonizing. 

A small noise escapes your throat, somewhere between a question and a whine, and when you open your eyes, Indrid—beautiful, wonderful Indrid—is staring, starry-eyed, with joy and awe written plainly across his face. You only have a moment to think, _wow_, before his hands are on your hips and his mouth is back on yours, desperate and craving and more, more, _more_. You give yourself to him completely, pouring every stolen glance, every moment of longing, every ounce of feeling that you have for him into the kiss, letting him take everything he wants, everything he thought he could never have. You’ll give it all. 

And he gives, too. In the movement of his lips, you can feel your sentiments echoed: every stifled sigh, every moment of hope and fear that the two of you have felt since the day you met, they’re all communicated instantly, wordlessly in the meeting of lips and tongues. 

The feeling of _finally_, of _inevitability_ and _always_, bubbles up and up and out of your chest, past your lips and across the divide until you know he can feel it too, and the two of you are lost—lost in your own private world, a pocket dimension of nothing but adoration and hope and _please god don’t let it end_. Indrid must be thinking the same thing, because he holds you impossibly closer as you bring your hand to his cheek, shaking fingers brushing his jawline softly, afraid that if you move too quickly, touch too hard, the moment will break into a million pieces like glass shattering on concrete. But it doesn’t break, doesn’t fracture, isn’t fragile; so you kiss him harder.

He accepts your touch like he’s starving for it, caving to every demand of your lips and tongue and responding in kind, enthusiastic and full of pent-up desire.

It takes hours, or maybe only minutes, for you to separate, chests heaving and faces flushed. For a moment, you remain there with eyes closed, your hand on his cheek, his wrapped around your waist—and you breathe into the silence, reveling in the staccato rhythm of your combined heartbeats.

Finally, you break the quiet, murmuring against his skin. “Do you believe me?”

Indrid _laughs_, breathless and light, and you think that maybe now, he can see all the new possibilities—the two of you, together, facing the future. You can feel the warmth radiating from his cheeks.

“I... I do. _Gods_, I do, I love you.”

The grin that splits your face is entirely insuppressible, and as he echoes the expression with his slightly too-wide smile, all teeth and just barely uncanny, you pull him back down to your lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you easily off the ground. 

“I love you,” you promise into the kiss.

“I love you,” Indrid promises right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have so many feelings. so many.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this chapter! as always, hmu on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/) :D


	9. A Walk in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a lot of questions. Indrid has a lot of patience. And you both have a big ‘ole crush. (Pre-relationship, mutual pining, hand-holding)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hands yall a bunch of headcanons about Indrid's past* please accept my humble offerings

You’re not quite sure _when_ your regular walks through the woods became more of an excuse to see Indrid than anything else—you certainly _used_ to love doing it alone, after all. But once you found out that Indrid enjoys nature walks as much as you do, it just... happened naturally. The two of you don’t always say much, but you’ve never been opposed to companionable silence. So today, like many days before, you find yourself walking over fallen leaves, Indrid at your side, the two of you trading trivia about whatever plant or animal you notice, or just walking quietly and observing the world around you.

Lost in thought about how quickly autumn has come for Kepler, West Virginia, you’ve zoned out for a minute or two before Indrid’s voice brings you back to reality.

“You are a bit of a puzzle to me,” he remarks, cocking his head with a slight smile.

Instantly, you’re blushing, pulled out of your own reveries by his simple statement. “I am?”

“Yes.” He tilts his head upward, like he does when he’s concentrating on the future, or when new possibilities have revealed themselves. “It is fairly easy for me to discern what most people are going to say or do, often long before they have the chance to say or do it.” He pauses to look at you again, and you see the reflection of your reddened face in his glasses. “But your future is constantly changing, rearranging itself before my eyes. There are more possibilities in the things that you say than I am used to seeing, and as such, you are difficult to predict.”

You hum in thought, watching your footsteps over the brown and red and golden leaves littering the forest floor. “Maybe it’s an ADHD thing? I don’t really... think before I speak, most of the time.” You laugh sheepishly. “But I think about saying a lot of stuff that I don’t say, too, if that makes sense?”

“It could be,” Indrid says. “I often see you asking questions, but then, you never ask them. Why?”

It’s true, you have lots of questions that you long to ask him. You have a scientist’s curiosity, after all, but... “I don’t want to be rude, or like, ask something insensitive by accident.”

As you begin to say it, Indrid suddenly laughs. “You’re afraid of offending me?”

You tear your eyes from the ground, finding Indrid to have stopped walking in his surprise. “Well... yeah? I mean... there’s gotta be a lot of cultural differences between Sylvain and Earth, right? And a lot of stuff I want to know would be awkward to ask, even without cultural stuff.” 

Indrid grins his slightly too-wide grin. “Tell you what,” he says. “Why don’t you just... ask me anything you want, and I’ll tell you if it’s rude.”

“O-oh,” his smile sets off a cascade of butterflies in your stomach, even more so when he gestures for you to sit down on a nearby log with him. “Okay, then.”

He splays his long legs in front of him and leans back on his hands, facing the future.

Gingerly, you set yourself next to him.

“Ask away,” he says pleasantly.

“Alright.” Your mind swirls with hundreds of questions, everything you’ve wanted to know since you met him, since you learned about Sylvain. There are plenty of questions you don’t feel comfortable asking, of course, but...

“You’re overthinking this,” Indrid laughs. “Just ask me anything.”

“Your disguise,” you blurt out. “How does it work? Is it, like, an illusion? Is your true form still there, just invisible? Or does it turn you human for real?”

He turns his head to you, his glasses glinting in the dappled sunlight. “Wave your hand above my head,” he says.

You do that. “I don’t feel anything?”

“Exactly.” He nods, and taps his glasses. “The magic that makes my disguise possible is the magic of Sylvain herself. It is, essentially, illusory in nature, but it does not work by simply hiding my true form from your sight. Having said that... I do not understand it completely. Not even Janelle completely understands it. But we can harness it, borrow Sylvain’s power, store it.”

“And your future vision? Is it similar?”

“Yes. I was a Seer, as was my mother before me. Our talents come from Sylvain, and are an offshoot of Her powers.” He grins again. “If you want to know more about magic, you’d be better off asking Janelle. I only use the magic, she’s the one who studies it.”

You nod, brows drawn together in thought. “Okay, how about this, then: when you see the future, like, for instance, when you see what someone’s gonna say before they say it, are the possible futures... are they like, thoughts?”

He cocks his head, apparently waiting for the clarification you’re going to give next.

It’s hard to put into words, so you have to stop for a moment to put your thoughts together, and when you finally say it, Indrid says it at the same time.

“When someone thinks something, does that open up a possible future where they say it out loud?”

“You’re asking if my powers allow me to read minds, aren’t you?”

You blush. “In a way, I guess.”

He laughs a melodic laugh, and it brings a smile to your face. “Not really, no,” he says. “There are thoughts that have zero probability of being acted upon, and there are thoughts that inform actions. In a way, I suppose seeing possible futures is like seeing those thoughts that are likely to inform action, but if someone doesn’t intend to tell me something, I don’t see it. Your thoughts are yours alone.”

You won’t deny that his words bring you a sort of relief, and you know he can tell as he laughs again. It doesn’t remove the suspicion that he knows how you feel about him, but at least you know that you can have secrets, still.

“You still have lots of questions,” he says patiently.

Staring at your hands folded in your lap, you consider your words carefully. “I’m a biologist,” you start. “And... well, you and the other Sylphs, you’re aliens to me. So, I mean, from a scientific standpoint, I’m really curious, you know?”

There’s an amused expression on Indrid’s face when you look back up at him. “You have questions about our biology.”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know if it’s rude, or embarrassing, so obviously you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to...”

Indrid takes a small sketchpad and a pencil from his jacket pocket and flips to a blank page, beginning to scribble a rough outline. You scoot closer to watch.

“I’ll be honest,” he says, “we don’t spend a lot of time on what you would call the ‘hard’ sciences in Sylvain. Our studies mostly revolve around magic, so I can’t say I know all that much about biology.” His sketch begins to take the shape of, well, him—his true form, insectoid and winged. “But I’ll tell you what I know. I am beastfolk, which, as you know, means my ancestors were from Earth. They crossed through the gate, were exposed to Sylvain’s magic, and were anthropomorphized. My ancestors were moths, and they became moth-folk.”

You nod along, entranced by the quick movements of his hand, the scratch of pencil on paper that gives form to his explanation.

“I would assume that much of my biology has remained moth-like... just magically enhanced. Obviously, I’m bipedal, and over seven feet tall—eight if you count the antennae—which is very different from my non-magical cousins.” He grins. “But my wings,” he gestures to the drawing’s wings with his pencil, “are the same as any Earth moth’s, just larger. My sight is better, though I still have a heightened chemosense, thanks to my antennae.” He gestures to the eyes and long, feathery antennae of the sketch. “I have opposable thumbs, and my, ah, mouthparts, I guess you would call them, are different, since I eat things that moths do not eat.”

Immediately, your mind supplies some rather distracting imagery, which you push away with a blush that you hope to god Indrid doesn’t notice. It doesn’t help that your curiosity and imagination both want to study him more closely.

You decide you need to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Do you like being in your disguise? Or does it bother you that you can’t show your true form? Again, if that’s too personal—”

“It’s not, don’t worry. I... well, at first, it certainly bothered me; my disguise was a necessary precaution to avoid scaring humans and getting myself into trouble, but it wasn’t me. And I have changed it a little bit over the years—it took me a while to get the knack of looking human.” 

You think of his too-wide smile, and the legend around the name Indrid Cold.

“But, these days, I find that I’m rather fond of it. I’ve been told that I’m quite interesting to look at, and I’ll confess that I did sort of design it that way. I took parts of the human ‘look’ that fascinated me, and I put them together in my mind when I made these glasses. And now... it really does feel like me. I still like to return to my true form, when I can, but I have no problem with looking human.”

Now you find yourself staring at him, imagining him when he was younger, putting together features that appealed to him. Did he see the slope of his nose on some human, all those years ago? The hollows of his cheekbones? His height, the lankiness of his limbs? It’s a beautiful sentiment, in a way, one that adds another piece to the puzzle that is Indrid. He loves humanity, and not always for the things that humans love about themselves.

Of course, you think that his features go well together—he’s interesting, for sure, but beyond that, he’s attractive, and mysterious. 

Well, you suppose you’ve always been drawn to the strange.

The sun is beginning to set now, casting the woods in fiery oranges and yellows. It’s beautiful, and the way the dappled light casts shadows on Indrid’s face, in stark contrast with the bright red glint of his glasses, makes your breath catch in your throat.

“You’ve said before that you fell in love with Earth, and that’s why you stayed.” You avert your eyes, unable to look at him for the heat rising in your face. “What made you fall in love?”

In your peripheral vision, Indrid’s smile seems impossibly soft as he tilts his head back to face the sky. “I came to this planet out of curiosity, and to find a solution to Sylvain’s problems. But what I found was a place full of more mystery and beauty than I could comprehend. Earth is a huge planet, and every bit of it is as beautiful as the next. But, if I have to choose a moment... I would say it was the first time I saw the sunset. It’s not the same as the sunset in Sylvain. I think it’s something about the colors—something about this sunset transfixes me, every time.” He laughs a little bit. “I can’t quite put it poetically, I guess.”

“No, I understand,” you smile. “I mean, I haven’t seen Sylvain, so I guess I can’t say for sure, but I think Earth sunsets are pretty special.”

You spend a few moments in sun-bathed quiet, watching the progression of the sun below the horizon. Indrid’s words weigh on your mind, a connection to a long-ago past that you want nothing more than to understand.

Finally, he speaks once more. “We should head back, before it gets dark.”

You blink out of your reverie. “Ah, yeah, you’re right.” It’s beginning to get late, and the temperature is dropping fast. The autumn nights have been chilly lately, and you’re sure Indrid wants to return to his heated RV. Not to mention that it’s generally not a smart move to be walking around in the forest at night, although you’re sure you’re in no danger while Indrid is with you.

He stands with a stretch, offering you his hand to help you up, and you accept it gratefully with a blush that you hope goes unnoticed—his uncanny strength brings a rush of warmth beneath your skin as he pulls you easily to your feet. And as you walk with him back toward the parking lot where he lives, the cold brings him closer to your side, maybe subconsciously, as he seeks your warmth, and you pray that he can’t tell how nervous it makes you. 

Watching him from the corner of your eye, you see a shiver run through him. 

“Cold?” You smile shyly, and Indrid gives a little laugh.

“Yes,” he admits. “I guess it’s time to break out my winter coat... although I should’ve seen this weather coming.”

You move closer, pressing yourself against his side to share your warmth. Face red, you offer him your hand. “Here, I’m running at 98.6—I’m plenty toasty for the both of us.”

He smiles fondly as he accepts your hand, his long fingers intertwining and curling around yours and making your heartbeat race. His hand is cold, and you squeeze it gently as butterflies swarm in your stomach.

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but his voice seems just a little bit uneven when he thanks you, and his height causes him to lean over you slightly as you walk together, hand in hand. His stiff posture loosens after a minute, and neither of you stop yourselves from letting your bodies fit together, puzzle pieces in the chill sunset air. It’s comfortable in a way you can’t quite put words to; it feels like... belonging. 

Suddenly, it’s not just your body’s natural thermoregulation that’s keeping you warm. 

You don’t know if Indrid feels it too, but you certainly hope it’s not just in your head.

When you finally emerge in the parking lot of the Eastwood Campground and RV Park, you can’t help but feel a little disappointed, knowing that your time together is over for the night. 

Although, as you stand with Indrid outside his Winnebago, saying your goodnights with shy smiles, there’s a moment of hesitation. A moment full of something you can’t put a name to: a tension, something pulled tight between you that you don’t want to break. Maybe, if you were braver, you would ask if Indrid wanted to get dinner with you, or watch a movie... maybe you’d even lean in, press a kiss to his cheek... but you’re not quite there yet. You don’t know if that would be welcome, and you fear that you’ve misread the signs. You couldn’t bear to ruin the friendship you share.

So the moment passes, unacknowledged. Indrid heads into his summer-warm camper, and you return to your car with the sneaking suspicion that you’ve just missed an opportunity—or maybe avoided disaster. 

But the feeling of Indrid’s hand in yours remains, a tingling static in your fingers that makes you smile, sliding into the driver’s seat and turning your key in the ignition. The engine whirrs to life, echoing the thrumming of your heart. Regardless of your unsureness of Indrid’s feelings... the fact remains that he trusted you with parts of himself today, parts of himself that you’re not sure he’s trusted anyone with before. Trusted you to keep him warm.

And for now, as you press your chilled fingers to your warm cheeks, that’s enough for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before you ask, yes, Indrid did purposefully leave his coat at home so that you'd hold his hand. No, he won't ever admit it.  
never have i wanted to hold a hand so bad in my life i SWEAR
> 
> two chapters in one day bc i have a few one shots that are almost finished but just need a page or so more!!! i hope you enjoyed this one! As always, hmu on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/) <3


	10. Naptime!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid is cute when he’s sleepy. You can’t resist a little bit of cuddling! (Established relationship, domestic bliss)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's my secret, cap: I'm always thinking about domestic bliss

Indrid looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping—wings splayed out to either side, antennae drooping over his head, red eyes closed. You stand in the doorway for a moment, smiling stupidly as your heart squeezes in your chest, watching the even rise and fall of his thorax.

He _did_ say to wake him up when you got home...

You make your way over to sit down on the bed, still smiling, and give one of his arms a gentle nudge.

All at once, Indrid is on high alert—his eyes fly open, the fluff around his neck stands on end, his antennae lift straight up into the air, and he makes a startled chirping noise that makes you think of a cat awoken from a nap.

You can’t help it—you start to giggle at the sight. 

He comes to slowly, only relaxing minutely before you lean down and rest your hands on either side of his face, pressing a light kiss between his eyes, right below the base of his antennae. His eyes focus on you, and he gives a little sigh of contentment as you smooth down his fluff, carding your fingers through the feather-like hairs under his chin and over his shoulders. 

“Have a good nap?” You ask quietly, kissing his face again.

Indrid hums—the sound is almost like a purr, really—and his eyelids begin to droop again as he slurs out an affirmative.

That lightness in your chest squeezes even tighter.

He relaxes further and further as you run your fingers through his fluff, continuing to pepper him with kisses until he seems to be melting into the mattress, putty in your hands as always.

“If you want to sleep some more, I’ll let you,” you say, “but you did ask me to wake you up.”

The noncommittal grunt he gives in response is half-muffled against the bed, and you think he may be falling asleep again, so with one more kiss to his eyelids, you stand, ready to let him nap a little longer.

Apparently he’s not totally asleep, though, because the second you get up, he grabs your wrist, long claws looping gently around your hand. 

You smirk.

With one glowing eye open, he rolls to his side, careful not to crush his wing as he does so. The motion pulls you forward, and you take the hint, crawling into bed with him with a fond roll of your eyes.

Indrid buries his face against your warmth, that trilling, vibrating purr sounding through your chest and sending a gentle tingling through your nerves. You wrap your arms around his sleepy form, fingers combing his fuzzy neck and thorax, brushing lightly against his antennae, and he sighs again, completely comfortable in your embrace.

Though you wish you could stay like this for hours, it’s only minutes before your stomach audibly growls, and you feel Indrid’s soft, rumbling laughter against your chest.

“Time for dinner?” He asks, cracking one eye open and bathing your face in soft, red light.

You smile lovingly, brushing another kiss against the top of his head. “Unfortunately, I’m only human, and this human body needs some calories.”

“There’s nothing unfortunate about that.” He stretches, wings behind him and arms across your body, and pulls himself into a sitting position. You do the same, yawning for good measure, and he pulls you up with him as he stands.

Even on your tiptoes, you can’t reach his face, but he bends over to nip the top of your head affectionately.

“Stir fry tonight?” He asks, and you know he’s seen it in the future.

You nod, grinning. “One of these days I’ll find a way to surprise you.”

Indrid reaches for his glasses on the bedside table, and as he slips them on, his human disguise appears before you—much smaller than his true form, but also at a much more convenient height for kissing.

You pull him down to you for one lingering kiss, and as you pull away, you’re delighted by the bright blush across his cheeks, the dopey smile on his face, all but frozen in time as he stares at you adoringly.

He leans in for another, and you know that if you start, you’ll never stop—you have to take his hand and pull him to the kitchen, laughing the whole way.

But there’s always the promise of after dinner...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write this entire thing at work today? Maybe so. But guess who's on vacation for almost 3 weeks??? ME, BABEY!!  
(you know how many chapters I have in the works? so many. happy holidays ;))))
> 
> as always, hmu on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/), and thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!!


	11. Snow Bunnies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing in the snow is fun, but even with all his winter wear, Indrid still gets cold. It’s a good thing Amnesty Lodge has a fireplace! (Established relationship, cuddling)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it snowed pretty heavily where i live last night... boy howdy what i wouldn't give for a nice, warm mothman to cuddle

It’s a bright winter day; the kind where the sun glints blindingly off fresh-fallen snow and the cold burns in your lungs despite the deep blue of the cloudless sky above. 

A frigid breeze stings your cheeks and you grin, though your eyes water in the chill. 

“It’s not so bad, Indrid,” you call behind you, and when you turn around, your boyfriend appears in the doorway of his Winnebago, bundled up in more layers of winter wear than you can even count, completely unrecognizable but for the signature red glasses that keep him in his human disguise. You stifle a giggle at his appearance.

“‘Not so bad’ is...relative,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you think he must be pouting, although you can’t see his face, hidden as it is by no less than two scarves, a ski mask, earmuffs, and the hoods of... maybe two or three winter coats. He sort of has to waddle as he walks toward you, probably wearing two pairs of snow pants over his long johns and jeans; not to mention the way his torso looks like a big, puffy marshmallow with all the sweaters and coats.

You can’t hold back the laugh that builds in your throat as he stops before you, attempting—and failing—to place his hands on his hips. 

“Will you be warm enough?” You ask.

“For a little while.” 

You smile as you adjust the hoods and scarf, tucking him into his cocoon of warmth, and although you can’t see it, you know he’s smiling back by the tone of his voice when he thanks you. 

“Alright, you’ll let me know when you get cold, right? We won’t stay out long.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll let you know. We should be good for a couple of hours.”

You nod, grinning. “Then let’s go have fun.”

\---

Your friends are waiting for you outside Amnesty Lodge, everyone sporting warm coats and hats and scarves of their own as they run around, having fun. Aubrey and Dani are making snow angels when you arrive, and Barclay has just finished hanging up the final decorations on the lodge’s exterior: twinkling holiday lights and a bright green wreath above the entryway. Jake and a few of the Hornets are messing around on snowboards and sleds, and it seems that Minerva has just discovered the joy of a snowball fight, much to Duck’s chagrin—he gets pelted in the face before he even has a chance to retaliate.

Everyone is in high spirits, and you and Indrid are immediately put to work building, as Aubrey describes it, “the biggest goddamn snowman this town has ever seen!”

You laugh as you roll your snowball bigger and bigger, and when it gets too heavy for you to move, Indrid takes over. With his supernatural strength, it’s nearly as big as you are in no time—but Barclay and Joseph’s snowball takes the cake; it’s taller than you by a good few inches, and Barclay, minus his disguise, is still pushing it around in the snow with ease.

Aubrey and Dani have made the snowman’s head—still quite big, for a snowball, but not nearly the size of yours, and as the group of you brings your snowballs together, you think your eyes may have been bigger than your brains, because there’s no way anyone’s going to be able to lift yours on top of Barclay’s.

At least, until Minerva and Duck join you, and Minerva hoists the snowman’s middle part above her head like it’s made of styrofoam, plunking it on top of Barclay and Joseph’s giant snowball like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

When she tosses the head and it lands perfectly on top, all of you stand back to admire your team effort, and Aubrey lets out a triumphant laugh so contagious that none of you can help joining in.

Then, Minerva throws another snowball, and it’s war.

The battle is a hard-fought free-for-all, and with all the competitive (and supernaturally gifted) people you’re playing against, it quickly spirals out of control. Indrid, of course, has the ability to dodge out of the way of nearly every snowball that’s thrown his way, considering that he can see when and where they’ll be aimed—unfortunately, his multiple coats slow him down significantly, and you don’t have the luxury of future sight, so Minerva nails each of you directly in the face more than once.

“I don’t think I’m much of a match for any of you,” you laugh, wiping the snow off of Indrid’s glasses for him as he pouts. You count off your adversaries on your fingers: “Minerva, the alien warrior; Duck, the chosen one; Barclay, literal bigfoot; Joseph, a trained FBI agent; Aubrey, magical fire wielding goddess; and Dani, a very strong vampire woman... I’m kinda out of my league here.”

Your point is immediately proven as, faster than you can process, Minerva sends a large snowball flying your way—but just as quickly, Indrid is in front of you, taking the hit to the chest. 

It absolutely would have hit you square in the face if he hadn’t intercepted, and you grin as you swoon dramatically into his arms. “My knight in puffy armor,” you giggle, pulling his scarf down to plant a kiss on his lips.

He smiles dopily.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, cheeks tinged pink from the chill as well as the kiss. “Cold yet?”

“Well, to b-be honest...” Indrid confesses, “I can’t feel my fingers.”

With a look of alarm, you take his gloved hands in your own. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?” 

He laughs through chattering teeth as he tugs his scarf back over his face. “You were having so much fun, I couldn’t b-bring myself to say anything.”

You try to frown, though there’s too much fondness there to really make the expression land. “Indrid, you sap,” you chastise him gently. “We’ve gotta get you warmed up!”

Carefully, you pry off his gloves, taking his hands and placing them against your neck, under your scarf where your skin is warmest. His fingers are like ice, and an involuntary shiver runs through you at his touch, but this is the best way you can think of to warm him up—and when he hums a contented sigh, you find that you don’t really mind the cold, anyway. 

“Also,” he says sheepishly, cocking his head to the side, “I rather like this outcome, all things considered.”

And what can you do, besides tug his scarf down over his mouth and pull him in for another kiss?

Once Indrid’s hands (and lips) are thawed, you lead him back to the lodge, keeping close to share your warmth, and as you step inside, you find that someone—your bet is on Mama—has started up a fire in the fireplace, warming the lobby and casting it all in an orange glow.

You peel off your coat and then turn to help him out of his ridiculous ensemble, hanging it all up to dry on the coat rack, and Indrid makes a beeline (a mothline?) to the fire. 

“I would say something about moths and flames, if I didn’t think you’d already heard it before,” you grin.

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve heard it before,” he replies with a dry smile, his white hair sticking up at a dozen odd angles.

He’s still shivering as he sits down in front of the fire, and when you join him, he gravitates toward your warmth.

“Is it safe to take off your glasses?” You ask. “It’ll be easier to warm up without your disguise, won’t it?”

Indrid hums, staring into the flames as he checks through the possible futures. Evidently, he can’t see anything worrisome, because he smiles, reaches for his glasses, and then, suddenly, his human form is gone, replaced by 8 feet of insectoid chitin and fluff. With a leisurely stretch, he flutters his giant, brown wings behind him before wrapping two of his arms around you and pulling you onto his lap, the other two reaching back to grab the blanket off the couch. He drapes it around the both of you and says, “I feel better already.”

The fire is warm—the kind of warmth that buries itself deep under your skin and dissipates the chill from the inside out—and Indrid’s dark fuzz absorbs the heat quickly until you could swear that your cheek is pressed against an electric blanket. Within minutes, he’s thawed and purring contentedly, and you can feel the reverberations of it against your chest. You smile, utterly happy about... well, your whole situation, really. Your big, fuzzy boyfriend, the contented sounds he makes, the warmth of his lap and the fire and the blanket around you. Indrid opens a glowing red eye, his tone light and lovestruck as he asks, “Why are you smiling?”

You know he knows the answer, but you say it anyway, threading your fingers into the downy fluff around his neck as your grin grows wider. “I just really love you, you know?”

He leans down, nuzzling his mandibles against your head, and a breathless laugh escapes him. “I love you too, more than I could ever express with words. I only hope I can show it with my actions.”

He tightens his hold around you, four strong arms enveloping you in his protective embrace, and you crane your neck to look into his eyes as you say, “you do, Indrid. Every day.”

He chirps, embarrassed but happy, and nudges your cheek with his long tongue—which is about as close to a kiss as he can achieve in this form. 

You laugh lightly as you kiss his mandibles in return, and you both sigh happily against one another as you settle against his chest once again. The lull of the flickering fire brings a sleepy haze over your senses, and as your breathing deepens, you begin to drift off, warm and happy and very much in love.

\---

You don’t wake up until a loud squeal from the doorway rings out, and Indrid jolts, his antennae standing straight up in alarm. 

When you look up, you find that it’s only Aubrey, with the camera on her phone aimed at the two of you nestled together in front of the fireplace. Dani stands behind her, trying her best to hide her grin behind her hand. 

Indrid relaxes, though you can read the embarrassment in the way he holds himself, and you smooth down the fluff around his neck that has risen in his moment of fear.

“This one’s for sure going to the group chat,” Aubrey giggles, and you meet her gaze with a sleepy smile.

“Send ‘em to me, I need a new phone background,” you say.

Barclay is close behind Aubrey and Dani, and as he and Joseph enter the lodge, he loudly announces, “hot chocolate, coming up!” And rushes to the kitchen, holding hands with his boyfriend the whole way.

With a yawn, you snuggle back against Indrid and close your eyes. “Wake me up when it’s ready,” you smile, and you feel Indrid’s gentle laughter as he smooths down your bedhead, which is probably sticking up just as oddly as his hat hair.

“Me as well,” he says, directed at Aubrey and the rest of the Amnesty crew, and with a little rearranging of his position, he leans back once more, and the two of you are left to your sleepy little nest of warmth. 

(When Aubrey sends you the photo, later that night, your heart tightens in your chest all over again, and you smile dopily as you immediately set it to your background. You won’t be able to keep it for long, since photographic evidence of the mothman’s existence is dangerous... but for now, you cradle it close to your heart, feeling that warmth deep in your bones as you drift to sleep.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am only capable of posting cuddles and im ok with that. also did i mention im on vacation?? so much time for writing!! so even though im like, the world's slowest writer... i've got plenty of stuff up my sleeves for the next couple weeks ;)
> 
> thanks so much for reading; i really hope you enjoyed this chapter! as always, you can find me on [tumblr](http://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/) if you'd like to say hi! <333


	12. Terms of Endearment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid Cold understands the idea of pet names; has heard humans refer to each other as “baby” and “sweetie” and “hon” for as long as he’s been on Earth; but he’s never really had any cause to use them. Not until you, anyway. (Or, 4 times Indrid tries to use a pet name for you, and 1 time he finally gets it right.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can pry my "indrid and pet names" headcanons out of my cold, dead hands

1.

It just slips out, one day, only a few weeks after you and Indrid start dating. 

Indrid is already blushing before you speak—he usually is, so you don’t think much of it, especially since you’re usually blushing around him, too.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?” You grin as you open the door to your apartment, only realizing that you’ve never called him ‘babe’ before after it’s left your mouth.

Indrid freezes in place.

_Oh no_. That must not have been the right time, you’ve made him uncomfortable, he doesn’t like pet names—

His face becomes even redder, but before your anxiety spiral can get the best of you, a shy grin steals its way across his face. “Hello, babe,” and then, “Ah. It sounds silly, when I say it. I knew it would, but... I wanted to try.”

“I’m sorry, it just sort of... slipped out,” you say, letting him inside.

“No—no, don’t apologize,” that smile is still there, and so is the blush; you feel yourself soften at the way he turns his reddish gaze to you. “I like it. It sounds... right. But I keep seeing myself trying to say it back, and it doesn’t feel the same.” He shuffles his feet a bit on the carpet, like he feels guilty about it.

“Oh, Indrid,” you laugh. “You don’t have to call me ‘babe’ if it doesn’t feel right! You don’t have to use any pet names. And I won’t be upset if you don’t like what I call you.”

He brightens up again at that, and leans in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“I’ll keep trying,” he whispers.

2.

It’s over a week later, and in all honesty, you’ve completely forgotten about the whole ‘pet name’ thing. You like calling him ‘babe,’ and you’re totally fine with him not using pet names for you—after all, the most important thing is that you’re both comfortable enough to be yourselves around each other. And in the month that you’ve been together, you’ve never been happier or more comfortable.

Tonight, the two of you are cooking dinner: some pasta dish that you found online that’s a little too convoluted to make alone, and Indrid’s future sight is proving itself very useful.

“The pot is about to boil over,” Indrid grins, chopping up an onion (and somehow not even shedding a tear).

“Thanks, babe!” You drop the block of cheese you’re grating to rush back to the stove, turning the heat to low before the boiling water spills.

“No problem, sweetie.”

You turn to raise an eyebrow at him, but he’s already shaking his head.

“No, I felt it too. That one isn’t right either.”

You laugh, going back to your cheese grating. “Don’t worry about it so much, Indrid,” you smile. “If you find something that feels good, you’ll know it. And if you don’t, that’s perfectly fine, too.”

He spins around to peck your cheek as he dumps the chopped onion into the pan, and the sizzling oil sounds just like your nerves feel whenever he kisses you: tingling and alive.

3.

It’s snowing outside; big, fat, fluffy flakes falling from the sky and already beginning to stick to the trees, the streets, the cold earth. Indrid’s Winnebago is a nice, balmy 85 degrees, and you’re sweating through your tank top. He doesn’t seem to mind though—he’s wrapped around you as if he’s still cold, drinking a mug full of warm eggnog. You keep getting up to put more ice in yours. It’s not anything you’re upset about—you understand that he needs a warmer habitat than you do—but your body isn’t built for cuddling in heat like this, so you gently extricate yourself with an apologetic look.

As you start to say sorry, though, Indrid is already up, turning off most of his space heaters. 

“Babe, you don’t need to—”

He grins, and the temperature is quickly starting to drop. His trailer must not have very good insulation.

“You’re plenty warm,” he says, “and I’d much rather cuddle you than my space heaters.”

You roll your eyes fondly as he climbs back onto the couch, snuggling up against you and pulling a blanket around himself as the room cools down.

Soon, you’re no longer sweating, and you can pull the blanket around the both of you, sharing your warmth as he presses himself against you.

The movie you’re watching is soon forgotten as Indrid holds you tighter, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as he pulls you into a gentle, unhurried kiss.

“Love you, babe,” you mumble against his lips.

“Love you too, honey,” he tries, but as you giggle, he sighs in defeat. “That wasn’t it, was it.”

“No,” you laugh, brushing away the silver hair that’s fallen in his face. “But it was a good try!”

He smothers your laughter with a grinning kiss, and the snow continues its heavy descent outside. 

4.

Indrid pulls you into a twirl as you dance around the living room, lively music playing from your little bluetooth speaker on the coffee table, and you laugh as you spin, finding yourself braced against his chest. His glasses are pushed up on top of his head, and he’s looking down at you with a smile that conveys so much adoration, you could drown in it. You’re sure your expression says the same.

“I thought you said you couldn’t dance,” you raise an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been holding out on me, babe!”

“This isn’t exactly dancing,” he counters, gently swaying side to side as he holds you. “My Sight may help me avoid tripping, but it doesn’t give me any sense of rhythm, does it?”

You hum lightly, resting your head against his chest and closing your eyes, letting the music flow through you like a gentle wave. “All it takes is a little practice, you know.” You wrap your arms around his middle, correcting his rhythm by shifting your weight in time with the song.

“Well, if anyone has the patience to teach me, it’s you... k-kitten?”

You let out a spluttering laugh as Indrid immediately winces. 

You shake your head vehemently, although the smile on your face doesn’t dim. “Nope, that was the worst.”

“I heard it as soon as it was out of my mouth,” he agrees. “It was very bad.”

“‘Kitten,’ did you google pet names or something?”

His face is as red as his glasses. “Maybe,” he confesses.

“You’re so cute, you know that?”

“I’m glad you think so,” he smiles, leaning down as you go up on your tiptoes to kiss him. And then, he’s lifting you into the air and spinning again, laughing as you wrap your legs around his waist to keep yourself steady.

The music swells as his lips meet yours, both of you happily sighing as you thread your fingers through his hair, dancing entirely forgotten in the movement of his mouth against yours.

(+1)

Waking up in Indrid’s arms is quite possibly the _most_ wonderful way to wake up. The sunlight filtering in through the cracks in the blinds sets his white hair aflame, turning it to a reddish halo that matches his eyes; and the soft rise and fall of his chest against yours makes you smile gently, so in love you can hardly stand it.

His eyes flutter open, long white eyelashes catching the light of the sunrise, and he smiles back, tightening his arms around you and leaning in to nuzzle his nose against yours.

“Good morning, Indrid,” you mumble sleepily.

“Good morning, love,” he grins, voice scratchy with the remnants of deep sleep.

A blush creeps over your cheeks, warmth spreading beneath your skin at his words. “_Oh_,” you manage, and Indrid pulls you closer to kiss you, lips still sleep-warm.

When you finally separate for air, you clear your throat, whispering, “I like that one.”

“I do too,” he says, eyes glowing brightly in the morning light. “My love.”

You have to hide your face against his chest, the pink of your cheeks brightening further as he repeats himself over and over again, nudging your sides as his grin grows wider and wider. _My love, my love, my love_. 

You’re giggling near-uncontrollably as he rolls on top of you, pinning you down with his supernatural strength and pressing quick kisses all over your face: your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips, punctuating each one with another whisper of _love_.

“_Indrid_!” You laugh, squirming in his grasp, and he stops to look at you, his hair sleep-mussed, eyes half-lidded and glowing with love.

“Yes, _my love_?”

Giggles still falling from your lips like honey, you muster all your strength and twist, catching him off guard enough that you can roll back on top of him.

You give him a devious look, leaning in close to his ear to whisper, “at least brush your teeth first.” And, quick as you can, you make a run for it, Indrid hot on your heels as he jumps off the bed behind you, the two of you laughing the whole way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so goddamn in LOVE, yall......
> 
> i sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter!! god knows i had to take so many breaks while writing it bc my HEART CANT TAKE ALL THIS FLUFF... but just kidding, it CAN and WILL take this fluff. hmu on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/) if you'd like!! lots of love!!!


	13. Wonderful You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't be mean to yourself; that's the love of my life you're talking about!" (A little bit of hurt/comfort... but mostly comfort. Established relationship.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *posts a short chapter that i wrote while in the middle of my family's christmas celebration* HAPPY HOLIDAYS, YALL <3

Nothing in the world could make you happier than cuddling with Indrid, but you know better than anyone when something’s bothering him. And when he holds onto you a little tighter than usual, you’re sure that it’s not just your imagination. Something is upsetting him.

“Hey,” you say, turning into his chest, drawing nonsensical patterns into his shirt. “Hey, is something wrong? You’re awfully quiet tonight.”

“I don’t know,” Indrid says, seeming moments from tears. It’s alarming, seeing him so downtrodden, and you take his hands in your own, smoothing your thumbs across his skin.

“You can tell me, Indrid,” you say.

“I... it’s just that... well, it sounds silly, because I know what you’re going to say to this, but...” he won’t meet your eyes, and you frown, worried. “You... you deserve better. Than me. You deserve someone who’s... well, your own species, for one—”

Your worry turns to a pang of sadness, and you cut him off gently. “Hey, hey; stop right there.”

He looks down at your joined hands, shaggy white hair falling in his face and hiding his expression.

No, you’re not about to let him fall into a self conscious spiral—you release one of his hands to bring yours to his cheek, lifting his gaze to finally meet your eyes so that he can see how serious you are. “Indrid. My love. Listen to me. Are you listening?”

His lips twitch up at the corners, and he nods slightly.

Summoning every ounce of sincerity you possess, you begin. “I. Love. _You_. And no one else. I don’t, and I will never, want someone else. Not someone ‘my own species,’ not anyone else from Sylvain; absolutely nobody but you. Not only am I... _extremely_, physically attracted to you—and may I emphasize that point,” you run your thumb over his bottom lip, smiling at the dark blush that spreads over his cheeks. “But!” You turn serious again, “I am also attracted to you—in _love_ with you—in every other imaginable way. You think I deserve better? Indrid, there _is_ no one better. Not for me. Not in a million, billion years. Not in this world, or any other world, could there be anyone as perfect—as loving, as compassionate, as funny, as dedicated and loyal and sweet and goofy and—and everything that _you_ are. Because you’re my everything. I love you for every little thing you do.”

His eyes are watering now, the red glow of his irises slowly brightening as his mood changes. You catch a stray tear with your thumb as it falls, and he sniffles a laugh. “I’m—I’m nowhere near perfect.”

“Well, no one is. But I mean that all those little things that you think of as flaws—all your quirks and idiosyncrasies—are things that I love about you.” Leaning in, you rub your nose against his, humming thoughtfully. “You’re so hard on yourself, babe, but think of it this way: all these things you think and say about yourself—you’d never say that sort of thing about me, would you?”

“Of course not,” he says, so quietly you can barely hear him.

“Right. And I’d never say that sort of thing about you. So why are you being so cruel to the man I love, hm?”

He chuckles at that, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“I’m serious!” You giggle. “Don’t be mean to yourself! That’s the love of my life you’re talking about!” You kiss his nose, his cheek. “Nobody gets to talk shit about my boyfriend!” He’s laughing too, now, as you kiss his forehead, his eyelids, the corners of his mouth. He lets you slip off his glasses, transforming right before your eyes into his true form, and you have to crawl into his lap in order to reach his face. The tips of his antennae hang down, tickling your head as you lean in, pressing more gentle kisses to his mandibles, the base of his antennae.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, bringing his hands up to brush his claws through your hair, pushing you back enough that he can nip at you affectionately. “I’ll be nicer to myself. Or at least, I’ll try.”

“Good,” you grin, batting your eyelashes at him as you take one of his clawed hands, turning into it so that you can kiss his palm.

He gives an embarrassed chirp in return, eyes glowing bright as you keep up your assault, kissing him everywhere you can reach, reminding him that you love him for who he is. With every time he tries to jokingly push you away, you strain forward harder, locking your arms around his neck as you kiss him again and again and again, both of you giggling like fools. 

Behind you, one of his arms reaches blindly for his glasses, and when he finally finds them and slips them on, transforming again, you give a yelp as you drop a few inches, back onto a human-shaped lap. In the moment’s distraction, he wraps his arms around you, holding you captive as he repays the favor, littering your face with kisses and little love nips, his earlier doubts forgotten.

Maybe you won’t be able to get rid of all of Indrid’s self-doubt, but you’ll always keep trying to kiss his fears away... and for now at least, it seems to have worked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please accept this chapter as a holiday gift from me to you; I still have several more I hope to post before my vacation is over, but since it's xmas eve, i felt like i should let yall know that i love you! every time one of you leaves a like or a comment, or comes to say hi on my [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/) it really does make my day. not to be sappy as hell, but although i write these simply because im in love with a fictional character, i keep posting them because they make at least a couple other people happy as well!  
Have a great holiday, and a fantastic new year!! Lots of love!


	14. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid knows it’s high time he confesses his feelings for you—but flirting with humans is a tricky affair. So he decides to seek advice from the experts. (Chapter-relevant tags: background danbrey, confessions, first kiss)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling... very fluffy today

“By the way,” Indrid says as you step out of the hot Winnebago and into the relative chill of early autumn, “you should be careful to close your garage door tonight.” He cocks his head to the side, in a way that you know means that he’s looking into the future. “Leaving it open will probably result in a raccoon causing problems for you tomorrow.”

You laugh. “Thanks, Indrid, I will.” Momentarily, you pause, having the same thought you often have when you say goodbye: it would be so easy to lean in and kiss him on the cheek before you go… but no. Regardless of your feelings, you’re sure Indrid only sees you as a friend. It would only end in embarrassment. So you just throw him a smile and a wave, saying “see ya later,” as you turn and head to the parking lot.

\---

Indrid watches you get in your car and leave, and then he closes the door with a sigh, heading to the kitchenette to pour himself a glass of eggnog. Every time you come over, he sees futures where the night ends with a kiss (or more), but they have yet to come true. There are futures, of course, in which he makes the first move, and they nearly always turn out favorably, but for some reason, he can never find the right moment to bring it up. It’s been such a long time since he’s flirted with anyone, after all, and, well... he doesn’t want to mess up.

But, although patience is something Indrid has always had a lot of, he’s beginning to tire of this song and dance. It may be time for him to take the future into his own hands.

Though he may need some help, first.

\---

Pacing on the front porch of Amnesty Lodge, Indrid is having second thoughts. The conversation ahead is fraught with awkward moments, and truthfully, asking advice on this matter is... embarrassing at best. But he only knows of two couples composed of one human and one Sylph (even if Aubrey hosts the spirit of Sylvain within her, she was still raised on Earth), and he would rather suffer Aubrey’s teasing grin than reveal his secrets to Barclay and Stern. With one more sigh, Indrid pushes open the front door and steps inside the lodge.

“Hey, Indrid!” Jake Coolice waves at him from the table where he sits, polishing his board. He’s about to go snowboarding with the Hornets—there’s no bad weather on the horizon, but there is a fair chance that Keith will sprain his ankle.

“Hello, Jake,” Indrid replies pleasantly. “Have you seen Aubrey and Dani?” He already knows they’re upstairs, but it feels impolite to invite himself in further.

“Yeah, want me to go tell them you’re looking for them?”

“If you wouldn’t mind. Thank you.”

Jake grins and races up the stairs, and Indrid hears him knock on a door. He looks once more into the near future, concentrating on what questions he can ask that will a) get him the information he needs, and b) minimize the teasing he’s about to suffer. It seems Dani will be the key to keeping Aubrey on track, but that isn’t surprising.

The clunk of Aubrey’s heavy boots on the floor above tells him that Jake has found them, and Aubrey and Dani appear on the staircase shortly after.

“Indrid! Hey!” Aubrey says. Dani waves.

“_What’s up?_” Indrid asks, at the same time as Aubrey, then, “I was hoping I could ask the two of you some questions.”

Jake returns to the lobby to grab his board, then heads to the door. “See y’all later!”

“Oh, Jake,” Indrid calls. “Please do tell Keith to be careful getting off the ski lift.”

“Oh, uh, okay, will do! Thanks Indrid!” And Jake leaves the three of them alone.

Indrid gestures for Aubrey and Dani to sit down on one of the lobby’s plush couches, and he sits across from them, thinking how best to phrase the answer to what Dani’s about to ask.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, there’s nothing wrong. It’s just that... _hm_. You two make a good couple.”

They look at each other.

“Uh, thanks?” Aubrey says, confused.

Perhaps that wasn’t the right way to start. “I mean that... Dani, you are a Sylph. And Aubrey, you are human, aside from Sylvain’s spirit inside you.”

“Yes?” Aubrey draws the word out into a question, clearly not seeing where this is going.

Indrid sighs and bites the bullet. “I need advice, in the love life department.”

There are stars in Aubrey’s eyes as she gasps in excitement, and she slaps her hands onto the table in front of her—loudly—with a grin. “Spill!”

There is no future in which being vague is helpful, and Aubrey will make guesses and assumptions no matter what Indrid says. So he decides to be as straightforward as he can, despite the blush that paints itself across his cheeks. “There is someone I have feelings for—yes, you are about to guess correctly—and I’m fairly sure that they’re interested in me as well. I want to tell them... but I don’t know how. I never really learned how to show interest in a way that a human would understand.”

Aubrey has begun to bounce in her seat, and Dani is smiling. 

“I thought there was something going on there,” Dani says.

“Worry not, Indrid!” There’s a fire in Aubrey’s eyes—the regular kind, not the magical kind—and she gestures emphatically. “You came to the right place! What are you thinking; grand gestures, or something more casual?”

“I... don’t know,” Indrid admits. “How did you two get together?”

They both blush and smile at each other, and Dani takes Aubrey’s hand.

“Well, I was about to go off to fight the Quell, pretty sure I was gonna die, so I wanted to talk to Dani and tell her what’s up, ask her to take care of Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD. for me, all that jazz.”

“She pulled me aside, and I felt like it was now or never,” Dani says. “So I just sort of... went for it. I told her that when all this was over, I wanted to go wherever she went. That she felt like home.”

“Which is kind of funny, now that we know...”

“Yeah,” Dani laughs. “It kind of is.”

“Then she kissed me,” Aubrey grins.

Dani nods. “Then I kissed her. And she promised to come back to me.”

“So... moral of the story is, go off to your certain doom?” Aubrey winks. “Works every time.”

“I... see,” Indrid says. Obviously that’s not an option at the moment.

“I think the _real_ moral of the story,” Dani laughs, “is to just be honest. Everyone appreciates honesty, and if you spend all your time waiting for the ‘right moment,’ it might never come.”

“Besides,” Aubrey nudges Dani in the ribs with a smirk. “I really don’t think you have to worry about rejection.”

That brings a blush to Indrid’s cheeks. Based on his knowledge of the future, he doesn’t really doubt that you have feelings for him, but hearing someone else confirm his suspicions is a relief nonetheless. He can’t help the way his voice pitches higher as he says, “Oh... that’s, um. Good to know.”

Aubrey and Dani laugh a little bit at his embarrassment, and he can see that they’re only a few seconds away from grilling him about his crush—how long has he liked you? When is he going to confess? Has he told anyone else? And Barclay will come downstairs in a minute, too. If he doesn’t leave now, the whole lodge will be ribbing him about his feelings before long. So he stands quickly, ignoring Aubrey’s pout, and says, “Well, thank you very much for your advice, but I should be going now.”

Dani only smiles gently, rubbing her thumb over Aubrey’s hand. “Good luck, Indrid,” she says. 

He thanks her on his way out the door, and then it’s time to make a plan.

\---

Indrid often comes over to your place, not to do anything in particular, but simply for company as he draws his visions. The sentiment makes you warm all over—after spending so many years alone, you’re glad to be someone he can just be himself around. 

You’re enjoying that quiet camaraderie now: Indrid drawing on the couch as you water your plants and feed your fish, making sure everyone is taken care of; and you watch out of the corner of your eye as he taps his pencil, closes his sketchbook, and stands with a stretch that makes his joints pop loudly.

The sound makes you laugh. “You alright over there, rice crispy treats?” 

He smiles, lopsided and endearing, and comes over to stand by the fish tank with you. “I’m fine,” he says, “and what did you call me?”

“Rice crispy treats? You know,” you flex your hands, cracking your knuckles. 

“_Because you snap, crackle, and pop?_” You both say, and then you both laugh.

There’s a moment of quiet, then. It’s not awkward—it never is with Indrid—but you can tell that he’s thinking deeply about something, and he has been all afternoon. Maybe you should ask if there’s something on his mind; it can help to talk things through...

Next to you, he clears his throat.

“Can I... tell you something?” He asks, and your heart skips a beat. He sounds hesitant, nervous, even; the butterflies in your stomach go wild at the expectation of what comes next.

You turn to face him, and he’s not looking at you; instead, he’s staring at the ground, fiddling with his fingers, and you can just barely see the worried set of his brows in the gap behind his glasses. “Of course,” you say, voice soft, cheeks lit with a bright pink blush. “You can tell me anything.”

He lifts his gaze.

“I have...” Indrid speaks slowly, almost hesitant in his obvious nervousness. His eyes are obscured by his signature red glasses, but you know, without a doubt, that he’s looking directly into your eyes. After a long moment of silence, he takes a deep breath and begins again. “I have seen myself fall in love with you. In a thousand different futures, in a thousand different ways. Every time I grab onto a thread in this... incredibly complex web of time, and every time something unexpected happens and resets everything I can see—every single time, I see you, I see your smile. Our futures are entwined, and I don’t want to wait any longer to tell you how I feel. I... I _love_ you—”

It’s probably a little bit rude to not let him finish his (obviously rehearsed—how adorable is _that_) spiel, but you can’t hold still any longer, so excited and relieved and _in love_ that you throw yourself upon him. He isn’t caught by surprise—_imagine that_—he just catches you in his arms, using your momentum to spin you around in a circle before planting his lips on yours. The frames of his glasses dig into your skin, but you don’t mind at all; not as Indrid’s mouth fits so perfectly against yours and every fear you’ve had about your feelings being unrequited melts away under his touch. You’re both smiling as you pull away for breath, giddy and awed, and as Indrid sets you back on your feet, it’s as if everything is right with the world.

His blush-darkened cheeks are pushed high by the wide grin that splits his face, and you know that your own expression echoes his happiness perfectly.

You clear your throat, then, slightly embarrassed by your hasty display of affection, and finally reply, “I love you, too, Indrid,” reaching up to rest your palm against his cheek. “In case it wasn’t obvious.”

His white eyelashes flutter and he leans down again, just barely touching his nose to yours in a way that makes your stomach do somersaults. “Would you like to go on a date with me tonight?” He nearly whispers.

A quiet, breathless laugh escapes your lips. “Yeah, I really, _really_ would.”

“Perfect,” he grins.

“Perfect,” you agree.

_Perfect_, you think, as he kisses you again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could write a thousand confession-and-first-kiss scenarios and it would never be enough.  
Happy 2020, by the way! Here’s to another year of being in love with the mothman <333  
As always, you can find me on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/), or join our discord, Indridfuckers Inc. <3


	15. Cheer Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You had a rough day at work. Luckily, someone is there to cheer you up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: cries at work  
also me: hey,, i could write fanfic abt this  
(alternate title: i cope by writing my fictional boyfriend cheering me up)

Indrid is waiting for you as you pull up to the apartment building, standing outside in the snowy parking lot with a blanket pulled around his shoulders. The sight of him there, and what it means, brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes, and your vision blurs as you cut the engine and climb out, falling into Indrid’s arms with a pathetic sniffle as you start to cry for the... what, _fourth_ time that day?

He embraces you, wrapping you in his blanket and squeezing tightly. “I saw that you would be sad,” he says, although... you already figured that. The sheer simplicity of the statement forces a dry laugh from your throat, though, interrupting the sniffling and tears. “Come on,” he continues, his lilting voice cutting through the haze of sadness in your mind and reminding you of the happiness you feel when you’re with him. “Let’s go inside.” 

With superhuman strength, he scoops you up into a bridal carry, somehow not dislodging the blanket from his shoulders, and you give a startled laugh, face reddening as he grins down at you. It’s all too easy to hook your arms around his neck and let your head fall against his chest, allowing him carry you inside and up the flight of stairs to your apartment. He doesn’t set you down in front of the door, just shoulders it open as he keeps talking, distracting you with little anecdotes from his day—the amusing things he’s seen in the future, the funny thing Leo said to him at the store. With the warmth of his love around you, the tears slow and finally stop, and by the time he deposits you on the bed, you’re smiling again.

Indrid takes your coat off for you, and your gloves, and your shoes, and you notice he’s already set out your favorite comfy outfit for you to change into. The gesture brings with it another rush of emotion—but this time, the tears that fall from your eyes aren’t sadness, but gratitude.

Still, he frets. His hand comes to rest on your cheek, stroking his thumb under your eye. His voice is soft as anything as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

In response, you pull him toward you, pressing your lips to his and hoping it conveys what you feel with every fiber of your being. _You’re so kind. I love you more than words can express. You make me so happy. _He melts against you, hands on your cheeks as he smiles into the kiss.

When you break for air, a soft sigh rippling through the air between you, you’re sure he received the message. 

“_I love you_,” you both say. And then you laugh, your rough day already forgotten. 

“_I love you too_,” Indrid is grinning wide as he says it with you, echoing your sentiments, reflecting them like a mirror.

“_I said it first!_”

“_Indrid, come on,_” you’re giggling uncontrollably.

“_Jinx_!”

“_Double jinx!_”

“_You’re cheating!_” Laughter underlaces his words as he continues his mimicry.

He won’t stop, especially when it’s making you laugh, so you switch tactics—

“_Indrid smells!_” He says with you, then makes an affronted expression. “Hey!”

Laughter overtakes you, and you fall back on the bed, shoulders shaking.

“That’s a dirty trick,” he says, crawling on after you, but he’s laughing too—he knew it was coming. He stretches out next to you, wrapping his arms around your torso and snuggling up against you.

“_If you just would’ve let me—damnit!”_

Laughing in harmony, Indrid pulls you in for another kiss, the mood successfully lightened; your sadness swept away by his laughter and teasing. You wrap yourself around him, the feeling of your love seeping into your skin and warming you from the inside out.

When he finally breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, and the two of you—grinning like dorks—breathe into the stillness.

“Would you like to watch a movie tonight?” Indrid asks. “I brought a gallon of your favorite ice cream, and I thought you might like to order a pizza?”

You rub your nose against his, and his long, white eyelashes brush your cheeks. “_That sounds perfect_.”

He smiles again, and your heart flutters like the wings of a hundred tiny moths.

It seems you have a wonderful night ahead of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise i'll write something longer soon,, i'm just a terribly slow writer with so many WIPs at a time!!!  
as always, please come say hi on [tumblr!](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/) and hey, why not join our discord, [Indridfuckers Inc.](https://discord.gg/JTZeEPj), while you're at it?  
Sending yall love and good vibes <33 thanks for reading!


	16. High on Believing (that you’re in love with me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The very happy aftermath of a confession-slash-first-kiss :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I was listening to Hooked on a Feeling on repeat writing this. yes i considered just calling this chapter “ooga chaka.”

With a wave, you pull away in your old, beat-up car, and Indrid can see your smile from the doorway of the Winnebago—it’s the same one that’s echoed on his face as his visions run wild, showing him all the new possibilities that have opened up now that you know how he feels. When he closes the door behind him, he all but collapses against it, sinking to the floor with that goofy grin spreading wider and wider across his face.

_ You kissed him! _

The thought, the sense-memory of it, repeats on loop in his mind, and he pushes his glasses up into his hair, covering his eyes as his blush surges, warmth filling him from head to toe. You kissed him, and he kissed you, and you like him! You really,  _ really _ like him! He could laugh out loud from the sheer happiness suffusing his entire body right now—and, in fact, he does; his giggles are downright impossible to suppress.

He closes his eyes, and in the near future, you’re skipping across the parking lot—literally skipping!—and grinning as you take the stairs two at a time up to the second floor of your apartment building. Indrid watches the way you keep lifting your fingers to your lips, as if reminding yourself that the kiss was real, as if you could still feel it; his heart squeezes tight as you fall across the threshold to your apartment, collapsing onto the couch and burying your face in a throw pillow, kicking your feet, and then rolling over to hug the pillow to your chest, smiling as wide as a human can smile.

He knows how you feel—his own heart is still pounding in his chest, and there’s no way he’ll be able to wipe this big, dopey grin off his face anytime soon. All of his doubts and fears are gone, because there you are, still blushing and smiling and humming happily to yourself, not a trace of uncertainty or regret about you.  _ He _ made you smile like that.  _ He’s _ the reason for your blush, your laughter, your happiness—

Indrid could die happy right now, except for the fact that he desperately wants to experience the things he’s seeing in the near future: he’s taking you on a date, watching you smile at his jokes, and the way your eyes scrunch up when you’re laughing makes him glad he’s already sitting, because his knees go weak at the sight of it. He can see you shyly holding his hand, you small fingers in his, and as he rubs his thumb over your hand, you blush, bright and red as a rose. He watches as you press your lips to his, your timid kiss becoming bolder, and his stomach turns somersaults as he hides his face fully in his hands.  _ Oh, he’s a goner. _

The future is wonderfully bright, lit by your love for him and his for you, and Indrid’s heart is positively glowing—because by the way you’re smiling to yourself tonight, blushing into your hands the same way he is... he’s fairly sure that you’re a goner, too.

And, if he’s to believe any of his visions, it only gets better from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s fluff friday, y’all,,,  
I’m posting this on mobile bc im going out tonight and won’t have time later but,, I wanted to share at least a little something on Fluff Friday....  
I hope to have another, longer chapter ready on sunday!! <333  
As always, you can find me on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/), or join our discord, Indridfuckers Inc. <3


	17. Touch Starved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugs are essential to emotional well-being, and Indrid can’t remember the last time he received one. Lucky for him, you’re happy to remedy that. (Pre-relationship)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somebody give this moth a HUG

Indrid is unintentionally hilarious—mostly a side effect of his ability to predict a punchline, but sometimes just because he says the most buckwild shit you’ve ever heard. It’s part of what you love about him—his mind moves so quickly, he’s always a step ahead; and he always seems to know how to make you laugh. And as you double over with a wheezing laugh, the two of you relaxing outside the Winnebago, you instinctively reach out, taking hold of his arm and leaning in to steady yourself.

You’ve always been a touchy person—not touchy as in easily irritated, but touchy as in... fond of touching others. You’re very free with the physical contact you bestow upon people; so long as you know they’re okay with it: hugs and cheek kisses and holding hands with your closest friends, little touches on the arms of your acquaintances. You know that not everyone likes to be touched, though, so you try not to do it before you know someone’s comfort level... but sometimes, in the heat of the moment, you slip up.

And as Indrid startles at your touch, you’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you’ve never had the whole ‘touch conversation’ with him before. 

Immediately, you withdraw, blushing. 

“ _ Sorry _ ,” you both say at the same time. “ _ I, uh, touch people without thinking sometimes _ .”

“No, no,” Indrid continues, “it’s not a problem. I only...” he pauses, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I’ve had much... ah, physical contact? I don’t mind, though!”

The gears in your mind are immediately spinning—when he says ‘it’s been a while,’ how long  _ exactly _ does he mean? “Indrid,” you say, unable to keep yourself from asking, “when was the last time anyone gave you a hug?”

He pauses for a moment, fiddling with his hands. “I’m... not sure.”

_ Oh _ . The thought that he’s been so long without touch makes your heart ache. If that’s how he prefers it, that’s one thing, but... “I, um, don’t know a whole lot about Sylvan biology, but humans, at least, need physical touch to stay happy and healthy. There are studies that indicate that we should get several hugs a day,” you say. “Is that... true for Sylvans, too?”

“I... don’t recall any study of the sort being done in Sylvain, but, then again, most of our academia is on the subject of magic.”

“What about your disguise? Does it give you, I dunno...” You blush. “Human needs?”

Indrid laughs. “Well, I’m not sure about that, but we do hug in Sylvain. It’s just been a while since I’ve touched someone—humans tend to find me off-putting, and they, ah, often avoid me.” There’s a twinge of sadness in his voice as he admits that, and it tugs at your heartstrings. You know that humans have been cruel to him, especially when he reveals his true form, but you assumed that he’s at least had some friends over the years... even though you know it was only recently that he returned to Kepler. Has a human  _ ever _ hugged him?

He seems to sense your sympathy, and rushes to add, “I haven’t been completely devoid of it, though: I did brush hands with someone at the general store yesterday as I was—“

“Buying eggnog?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

The surprised look on his face is priceless: he must not have seen that coming. Finishing others’ sentences is usually his thing, and he clearly isn’t used to having it turned around on him. It makes you laugh, but there are butterflies in your stomach as you finally ask, “do you... want to hug?”

He smiles shyly, and you hope the bit of red peeking out from under his large glasses isn’t just wishful thinking on your part. “I... yes, I think that would be nice.”

Suddenly nervous—god knows you’ve wanted this contact for a while—you take a step toward him, looking up to meet his gaze (or at least, you assume he’s looking at you, it’s hard to tell with the glasses and all). Slowly, gingerly, you wrap your arms around his torso, pressing your face against his chest. 

Indrid stiffens immediately—he’s stick-thin, and quite a bit taller than you, so the effect is sort of like hugging a telephone pole... at least, until he relaxes from the initial shock of your touch. He begins to lean into it, and as he returns the hug, his hands wrapping around you to rest on your back, you can feel that he’s trembling, oh-so-slightly. 

You look up at him, worried. “Is this alright?”

The bright blush that erupts across his face is impossible to mistake, especially at this angle, when you can see up and under his glasses. His red eyes are glowing softly, casting little halos of light on his cheeks, and he’s looking nervously to the side, not meeting your questioning stare. 

“Yes, I...” He clears his throat in order to bring the pitch of his voice back down to normal. “This is... very nice. I think you may have been right—I didn’t anticipate how... intense it would feel, after so long.”

“Oh,” you say, a matching blush creeping into your cheeks. “You’re touch starved.”

“I suppose I am.”

“That’s alright,” you say, resting your chin against his chest, hiding your uncontainable smile in his shirt. “You can hug me whenever you like.”

When he leans his head down to rest against yours, still shaking slightly, your smile grows and the butterflies in your stomach take flight. The idea that he actually  _ likes _ touching you has your mind reeling, excited and grateful for the opportunity to deepen your relationship with him, in whatever small way he desires, and when you squeeze him just a little bit tighter, he echoes the movement.

You’d stay like this forever, if he wanted to, but all too soon he begins to pull away, a self-deprecating laugh on his lips.

“Thank you,” he says, his hands lingering nervously on your back. “I, ah, suppose I needed that.”

You know your face is red as can be, but hopefully, Indrid won’t think much of it. “‘S my pleasure,” you smile. “I’m always here for hugs, or words of affirmation, or whatever else you might need.”  _ Was that too much? _

But Indrid’s smile is so genuine that it makes your heart hurt, the affection swelling inside you to near-unbearable levels as he says, “I may just take you up on that offer.”

Oh, you really hope he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anybody else in a pining mood tonight?? I know i am,,,  
i said i'd post today and for once im making good on my word lmao!! As always, you can find me on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/), or join our discord, Indridfuckers Inc. <3


	18. Sleepy Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s exactly what the chapter title says, folks. (Established relationship, domestic bliss)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was home sick today so obviously i wrote another short chapter just about cuddles ;_;

The sheets are tangled around you, Indrid’s arm a comforting presence against your waist as you begin to drift off, but the soft glow of his eyes filters into your subconscious, and keeps sleep tantalizingly at bay.

“I can  _ feel _ you staring,” you mumble sleepily.

His own smiling lilt, rough with the undertones of exhaustion, makes your heart flutter as he replies, “would you deny me the pleasure of looking at the love of my life?”

You snort, even as his words send warmth coursing through you, melting your heart as only he can do. “You sappy bug,” you mutter, rolling over to face him, snuggling up against his chest.

He’s grinning that all-too-familiar wide grin of his, and, as usual, it’s contagious: you find yourself smiling back as you rub your nose against his neck.

“But I’m  _ your _ sappy bug,” he replies cheekily.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, kissing the hollow between his collarbones. “You’re  _ my _ sappy bug.”

His embrace tightens around you, pulling you impossibly closer as he buries his nose in your hair. “How long has it been since I’ve told you how much I love you?”

You pretend to take a moment to think, although you’re sure he can feel the way your smile widens against his neck. “I dunno, a whole ten minutes?”

“Oh, that’s  _ far _ too long!” With a twist of his arms, he pulls you on top of him, making you squeak a sound of surprise before he quiets you with a kiss, gentle and slow and perfect.

And he keeps kissing you; speaking after every one only to interrupt himself by pressing his lips back to yours: “If I could—spend every minute—of every day—telling you—how much you mean to me...” He finishes with a deeper, longer kiss that makes your heart melt and your blush deepen before he pulls back to look you in the eyes. “I would.” 

_You swoon_. His gaze is a deep, shimmering red, filled with love and devotion that mirrors your own; a happiness that neither of you could have ever imagined before you fell into each other’s lives. “I love you,” he says. “With everything that I am, and everything that I could be.”

“Indrid,” you breathe, choked with emotion as your eyes well up with happy tears. “I love you, too. You’re the most incredible person in the  _ universe _ , and I’m the luckiest, just because you’re in my life.”

And you absolutely mean it, he’s  _ perfect _ : the way his lips curve into a soft smile, full of promise and love; the white hair that surrounds his face, falling on the pillowcase like an angel’s halo; the dark hollows of his cheekbones and the smile lines around his eyes. Every day you fall more in love with him, though every day you think you can’t possibly love him more. He proves you wrong, again and again. 

“I love you,” you repeat, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, admiring the flutter of his long eyelashes as he closes his eyes. 

“ _ You make me so happy _ ,” he says with you.

You rest your head against his chest, feeling the rapid pace of his heartbeat beneath your cheek—proof of his words, though you already believe them wholeheartedly. 

His breathing begins to slow and even out, and before long, you realize he’s fallen asleep: his mouth open just slightly, and a little bit of a snore escaping his lips. It makes you smile to yourself, so full of love you can barely keep still; but you don’t want to wake him. Settling back against his chest, you count your lucky stars that the two of you have each other—and then you begin to count sheep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i want to cuddle so bad.  
As always, you can find me on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/), or join our discord, Indridfuckers Inc. <3


	19. Admiration (and other synonyms for 'ogling')

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Checking out the mothman. (Pre-relationship)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know that scene in captain america the first avenger where steve comes out of the chamber all ab-ified and sweaty and hayley atwell visibly almost touches his chest? yeah. (this one goes out to my friend, who asked me literal weeks ago about my personal hc for indrid's sylph form and i said "yes absolutely i'll write about this right now" and then i didn't, you know, like a liar)

Despite the fact that all of Kepler knows about Sylvain, Indrid doesn’t make a habit out of revealing his true form. There are tourists, for one thing, and some of the residents are still... spooked by his appearance. No, the privilege of seeing Indrid at his most relaxed, his most vulnerable, belongs to a select few, yourself included—and you’re honored to be on his list of trusted friends. Especially when he isn’t paying attention, and you can spend a little time looking. Appreciating. (You wouldn’t use the term ‘ogling,’ but if you’re being honest...)

The woods are lovely this time of year—the winter chill has yet to set in, but the autumn leaves are falling all around, blanketing the ground in oranges and reds and browns. It’s safe here, now, and for once, the Sylphs don’t need to worry. There isn’t a single tourist in Kepler, West Virginia, and Amnesty Lodge is quiet as its residents relax in the sunlight.

Most of the former Pine Guard and their friends are keeping nice and warm in the hot springs, but those of you that prefer dry land are setting up for tonight’s planned bonfire. (Okay, so _maybe_ part of you wants to go relax in the water, but the greater, more pathetic part of yourself wants to be wherever Indrid is.)

Barclay returns from inside the lodge, what looks to be a half dozen fold-out chairs—the kind you’d see at a kids’ soccer game—hoisted on his huge, hairy shoulders. Behind him, Mama is carrying two.

The pit for the fire is already finished: you aren’t exactly the strongest member of the squad, but you can carry smaller rocks, and making the ring around the pit hadn’t been the most difficult task. As Barclay and Mama set out the chairs, the only thing left to do is to build the fire itself.

Right on cue, Indrid returns from the pile of firewood, carrying stacks of pre-chopped wood in his four insectoid arms.

You take a deep breath and try your best to focus on setting up the kindling. After all, you may not be a pyromancer like Aubrey, but you certainly know how to build a good bonfire.

Unfortunately for your poor, unfocused brain, Indrid sets down his haul and goes over to talk to Barclay—just opposite you on the other side of the fire pit—and with his back to you, you can clearly see the impressive expanse of his wings, shimmering slightly as they flutter behind him. 

You’ll never understand why people are so scared of him; personally, you think he’s beautiful, not scary. His wings are a gorgeous, rich brown color, shot through with patches and lines of russet and yellow, and each of his four wings sports a large, nearly eye-shaped patch of white and orange. It’s a form of mimicry, you know—how some species of moth avoid predation, but on Indrid, they’re a thing of otherworldly beauty, the scales of them catching the afternoon sunlight and scattering it in iridescent glints. You’ve often daydreamed of the way his wings must feel beneath your fingers; they look like they’re made of the same shimmery scales that all moths have, so you think they might be a soft, dusty material. His torso and abdomen are brown as well, his chitinous exoskeleton covered by a downy coat of fluff that’s thickest around his neck—or rather, the junction of his head and thorax; you’re not sure it qualifies as a neck, anatomically speaking. (You know from your... _studies_, that a moth’s “hair” is a form of modified scale, also made of chitin, but microscopically they almost look like feathers. Regardless of what they’re made of, though, the hairs are so thin and densely packed that you know they would feel soft to the touch.) His four arms and two long legs are covered in that same fuzz, ending in claws that _could_ be wickedly sharp, if you could picture Indrid as anything but exceedingly gentle with them, and you can tell just by looking that he has a supernatural strength. Doubly so when he nods to Barclay and hefts a large stack of firewood, stepping into the pit to place it gently to the side of your pile of kindling. 

What draws your attention most are his huge, ruby red eyes—glowing softly now, but you’ve seen the way that light intensifies when he’s excited, or upset. His gaze is... enrapturing, to say the least. It’s easy enough to stare when he isn’t looking your way, but whenever he meets your gaze, you’re sure you turn red as can be. And then there’s his mandibles, sharp little things that click when he talks and hide whatever his mouthparts look like—you’ve never seen them, but you can’t help but imagine he has a moth’s coiled tongue. Poking out of the top of his head are two huge, feathery antennae, leaf-shaped and brown, and they flick back and forth as he picks up different scents in the air. Your fingers itch to stroke them gently, to see how he’d react to your touch. Can he feel them? Would they tickle when they brush across your skin?

That’s not a line of thought you should indulge in right now.

From the tips of his antennae to his clawed feet, he must be well over eight feet tall, a huge, hulking presence with his ten foot wingspan. But as large as he is, you’ve never felt intimidated by him; even from the very first time you got to see his true form, he’s always appeared more as a protective figure than anything else. 

A bit of a laugh threatens to escape your lips as the idea comes to you; Indrid is almost angelic. The wings, the glow of his eyes, and if you squint, his antennae could even be a halo... it feels like a perfect comparison. 

How could anyone be afraid of such a gentle giant?

You’re startled by a whisper in your ear, making you yelp and jump straight into the air.

“Whatcha starin’ at?” Aubrey lays her (still wet) hand on your shoulder with a knowing grin, and you feel your face flush with warmth, caught in the act of admiring your crush. As your eyes dart back to the others, your mortification skyrockets; Indrid, as well as Barclay and Mama, is staring right at you. You wave away their concern before turning back to Aubrey, whose grin only grows more suggestive.

“I wasn’t staring,” you hiss, blushing a bright red.

She raises her eyebrows. “_Riiiiight_, and I’m not madly in love with my girlfriend.” 

You splutter at her sarcasm.

“Hey, it’s cool,” she lowers her voice to a whisper again. “I’m not gonna tell anybody about your glaringly obvious crush.”

Lowering your face into your hands, you sigh. “It _is_ obvious, isn’t it.”

Aubrey huffs a short laugh. “If it makes you feel any better, Indrid is the densest, most oblivious Sylph I know.”

Another glance back at him tells you that the other conversation has resumed, and no one is paying the two of you any mind. You scoot closer to her anyway. “Yeah, right,” you mutter. Then, “You think he doesn’t know?”

“Are you kidding? You could tell him directly that you wanna smooch his big moth face and he still wouldn’t get it.”

You snort, but her words do little to ease the fear in your heart. “Well. He _can_ see the future. I’m sure he knows, somehow. I think he’s just... ignoring it so he doesn’t have to let me down, you know?”

Aubrey deadpans. “You seriously... oh my god.”

“What?” You cross your arms, pouting. “You think I’m wrong?”

“Dude.”

“I just don’t think that—”

You’re stopped by Aubrey’s hand on your shoulder, and you jerk as you realize that Indrid is approaching. She gives you a wink, and before you can protest, beg her not to leave you, she calls out, “hey, Dani!” and runs back toward the hot springs.

Still blushing, you turn to Indrid, offering up what you hope is a normal-seeming smile.

Up close, you can see your reflection a hundred times in his kaleidoscopic compound eyes, and being this close to him—all eight feet of him—almost renders you speechless.

Your traitorous mind makes sure to remind you that at this distance, you could easily reach out and touch his thorax, feel for yourself just how soft he is—but that is a terrible idea, and you sincerely hope that there isn’t some alternate future where you do just that.

Somehow, you manage to stutter a hello, grinning bashfully. 

Maybe if you had future vision, you could avoid looking like an absolute dork in front of him.

But... getting through a night of conversation with your crush when he’s a big, hot, insectoid alien? You have a better chance of developing future vision right there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah! My indrid is basically just... a big, magic moth. His colors and wings are mostly based off the Polyphemus moth! I'm just constantly big heart eyes over Saturniid moths,,,  
i hope u enjoyed reading my gratuitous descriptions of the mothman,,, stay tuned for a sweet sweet fluffy fic on vday ;)  
As always, you can find me on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/), or join our discord, Indridfuckers Inc. <3


	20. Kissing in the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty self-explanatory, folks ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! <3

Hand in hand with Indrid, you run as fast as your human legs can carry you as the rain begins to fall in earnest—the light drizzle slowly becoming a downpour as it drips through the boughs of the pines, falling from the grey skies above.

You’re half laughing, half yelling to be heard over the steady beat of the rain: “I thought you said it wouldn’t rain til later!”

Behind you, already soaking wet in his ratty white tank top and signature ripped jeans, Indrid is laughing right back, joyful even when you know how much he hates being wet and cold. “Forgive me if I was distracted!”

You let out another shriek as the sky opens up above you—and you’re still over a minute from Indrid’s Winnebago! You’ll have to sit in front of his space heaters for ages just to dry off!

Twigs snap under your feet as the pines swallow your laughter, the bed of brown needles beneath you muffling your footfalls as the summer storm rumbles overhead. There’s thunder far in the distance, but it’s nothing to worry about—there are still over ten seconds between the flash of lightning and it’s accompanying roll of thunder.

You’re almost there, the Winnebago in your sights; but as you turn around to look at Indrid, laughing as he follows you through the trees... something in you stops, rooting you to the spot, heedless of the weather.

He slows and comes to stand beside you, unsurprised at your apparent pit stop, and you watch the deep rise and fall of his chest as he looks you over, smiling wide.

His tank top clings to his skin, nearly translucent and showing off the bumps and ridges of his ribs—in the moment, you can’t help reaching out to him, resting your hand on his waist.

Growing red, Indrid swipes at his dripping glasses, trying to wipe off some of the water so he can see better, but he only succeeds at smudging them terribly, and he finally impatiently pushes them up into his hair. A few strands of white still hang, plastered to his forehead, dripping water down into his eyes; the droplets catch in his long, white eyelashes, eventually falling and running down his darkened cheeks, or nose, or lips... You bring your gaze back up, and in his eyes is that indescribable look—that love that makes you warm all over, that wonder that sets your stomach fluttering, that awe that starts an inferno in your heart. Like all the oxygen has been removed from the atmosphere, it knocks the breath out of you, and you stop, frozen in the rain by the emotions that are far too strong to just be called _love_. The soft red glow of his eyes flares, igniting with the fierce blush that darkens his cheeks as, for a moment, the two of you stare, transfixed. 

He’s beautiful. 

And he is yours, just as you are his.

And suddenly, his arms are around you, pulling you toward him and wrapping you in his wet embrace, leaning down to press his lips against yours. Rain trickles down your faces, dripping from your hair and eyelashes and hand where it meets his cheek. 

You’re already soaked—so what’s a little longer in the storm? 

With a tilt of your head, you angle your nose against his to deepen the kiss, going up on your tippy toes as he presses against you. Neither of you can help the smile that splits your faces, even as you continue to kiss; your hands on his cheeks, his on your back, each other’s laughter warm in your mouths despite the chill of the rain. 

You part for air and then return, again and again under the weeping skies—his skin is warm against your own, though, and the outside world no longer matters. Not with Indrid’s lips on your own, his breath intermingling with yours until there’s nothing left to separate you, two beings so in love that every part of him is part of you, too. He pulls you so tight against his chest that you know he’s thinking the same thing: that if you could be _one_ rather than _two_... you would.

You aren’t surprised when he sweeps you off your feet, letting you wrap your legs around his waist and bury your hands in his dripping hair. He loves you; you know it, even when he doesn’t say it (although he does—all the time). But he doesn’t need to. It’s just something you _know_, like you know that he’s the only one for you, like you know he’s your destiny, if such a thing exists. Your lovely, sappy, dorky destiny who kisses you like it’s the last and most important thing he’ll ever do.

You hope you can convey the same thing in the way you meet his lips, again and again, so full of happiness that you can’t keep the giggles from escaping your chest.

It isn’t until Indrid starts to shiver that you finally separate, the cold and the wet beginning to seep into your conscious thoughts. 

Still nose to nose, you breathe an awed little laugh into the space between you, and Indrid echoes it in harmony—the two of you matched in tone and rhythm, a song that only your love can sing.

“I lied,” he whispers, placing one more chaste kiss to the tip of your nose. “I knew exactly when it was going to rain.”

And your laughter turns boisterous as he sets you down and you pull him forward, out of the rain and into the warmth of his trailer with the promise of love stretching between you and beyond you and out into the endless gray sky.

And maybe it’s just coincidence that a hint of sun shines through the clouds, just before you step into the Winnebago; maybe the rainbow that splits the sky is mere serendipity... but then again, you’ve already admitted to believing in fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so full of softness and i love valentines day........  
i hope you enjoyed this one!! i really enjoyed writing it :'))  
As always, you can find me on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/), or join our discord, Indridfuckers Inc. <3


	21. Sway With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of Sylvain is holding a gala to celebrate the completion of the first phase of the rebuilding efforts. Everyone is welcome to attend, but Sylvain Herself has issued a personal invitation to Her former Court Seer and his partner. It’s sure to be a wonderful night of dancing and food and camaraderie, but even so, Indrid is a bit nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexa, play make me sway by dean martin.

Indrid stands in front of the mirror, frowning as he attempts to tame his unruly white hair.

“Need some help?” You ask, coming up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist.

“It would appear so,” he sighs, as the just-combed strands of his cowlick pop right back into place; straight into the air.

His posture sags, just a bit, and you can tell he’s been thinking deeply, something troubling him.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“ _ Is it the gala? _ ” He asks with you, then takes a deep breath. “It... a little bit, yes.”

“Indrid, if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. We can stay home if it’s stressing you out!”

He sighs. “It’s not that I don’t want to go. It’s just... I haven’t had to play this part—the whole ‘Court Seer’ thing, in a century now. I’ll confess that I haven’t exactly missed it.”

You hug him tighter, your arms wrapping all the way around his torso with ease, fingers sliding over the hollows between his ribs. “I know,” you sympathize. “It was a lot of unfair expectation, and you didn’t deserve to have to go through that. Especially so young.” When you nuzzle your face against his back, you feel him shiver. “But hey, remember that you don’t have to do that anymore—not if you don’t want to. You’re invited as the  _ former _ Seer. You’re retired. And anybody whose opinion matters already loves you for just who you are.”

He lets out a small laugh. “I suppose you’re right. I just... feel I owe it to Sylvain.” 

This isn’t the first time you’ve talked about this sort of thing. You know the guilt Indrid harbors, the aftermath of not only the expectations he grew up with, but also his traumatic experiences on Earth. It isn’t the kind of wound that you can fix for him, but you’ll always listen and support him with whatever he needs. 

“Sylvain loves you,” you remind him. “And She wants you to be happy. She isn’t going to be disappointed if you don’t conform to some rigid expectation. Hell, I think She’d  _ laugh _ if you went full wedding crashers on this shindig. I mean, She’s been inside Aubrey for so long, I’m sure She’s developed a similar sense of humor.”

Indrid laughs, harder this time, grinning wide enough to show off the little gap between his front teeth—you can see in the mirror the way his eyes crinkle up, and you smile too.

“I’ll be Owen Wilson if you’re Vince Vaughn,” you continue, laughing along with him as he begins to snort. “Need me to like, swing from a chandelier? Eat all the appetizers? Start a fight with Woodbridge? I don’t know what happens in Wedding Crashers.” 

His shoulders are shaking now, and he turns around to face you, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “Although I’d  _ love _ to see that last one—I don’t think it’s necessary quite yet. Maybe some other time.”

“Alright,” you giggle, pulling him back down to kiss him again. “But hey, I also do birthday parties, baby showers, and company holiday parties.”

“What would I do without you?” He laughs against your lips.

“I’m never gonna let you find out,” you grin back. “Now come on, let me do your hair.”

\---

Standing before the gate—or, rather, the closet door in the basement of Amnesty Lodge—you can feel Indrid’s hesitation again. His shoulders are tensed, and his hand in yours is beginning to sweat. His other hand is nervously fiddling with his outfit—a charmed version of one of his formal Seer garments: a suit made of a dark, shimmery, iridescent fabric that catches the light beautifully with every movement. He’s made it so that it will change forms with him when he takes off his glasses—you’re not sure how a mothperson wears a suit, but he’s declared it a surprise. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, and when he looks down at you, you smile. 

Across the room, Mama hangs up the phone, where she had been talking to Sarah Drake, and after a few seconds, the portal flickers to life in the doorway before you, and the small group of gathered Sylphs and Pine Guard, head through.

There is a brief, dizzying lurch as lightyears condense into mere millimeters, space folding and bending around you by some magic you could never hope to understand, twisting your perception of space time and sending you hurtling through untold fathoms... and then you step out of the doorway, and onto the soft grass around the Central Gate of Sylvain.

This isn’t your first time here. Indrid took you once before, when the rebuilding efforts were still in their first phase, and you had been absolutely in awe, trying to take in everything you possibly could of your first alien planet. That feeling of awe still hits you now, as you glimpse the crystal and the castle in the distance, the strange flora beneath your feet, and the alien denizens of this world, some of whom you recognize already. 

You remember that the guard who greets you—the head of Sylvan security, sporting an impressive pair of horns that sprout through his helmet—is named Vincent, and you smile kindly as he politely greets the incoming party. 

“Welcome,” he says, and one by one, the Sylphs drop their disguises. 

Barclay gains a lot of height and a lot of hair when he takes off his bracelet, but evidently, Indrid helped him with his charm, too, because his suit, made of a similar material to Indrid’s, grows to accommodate his form. You don’t miss the smile on Joseph’s face as his boyfriend transforms; it’s the same that adorns your face whenever Indrid takes off his glasses. And now it’s your turn to grin as he does just that, going from six foot tall and lanky to eight foot tall and winged. His suit changes dramatically—no longer a suit, really, but more of a wrap, cinching around the junction of his thorax and abdomen and hanging down, mimicking a third pair of wings. When he flutters them, stretching, the wind picks up the iridescent trails of fabric and twirls them, scattering shimmery light all around.

“Woah,” you murmur, dumbstruck, and the wink he throws your way makes you melt.

Taking Indrid’s hand again, you follow Vincent and the rest of the group to the castle along freshly cleaned cobblestone roads, the lanterns on either side already lit and tied with celebratory ribbons. There’s magic in the air; literally as well as metaphorically, as some of Janelle’s students are practicing their pyrotechnical spells in a clearing nearby, preparing for a fireworks display that you’re sure will blow your socks off. 

The crystal looms, larger than life, in the castle’s courtyard, and large swaths of wildflowers bloom from beneath it, covering the ground in color and releasing a sweet fragrance into the air. The crystal’s dazzling orange facets gleam in the dying light of the day, Sylvain’s sun sinking farther below the horizon with every passing moment. Soon, the stars will be out: unfamiliar constellations and a different view of the milky way that nearly makes you weep with wonder. But you can admire that later—now is the time to reassure Indrid, because you feel the way he tenses slightly as you walk through the huge entrance to the castle. 

The entryway is decorated beautifully in oranges and shimmering magic lights, but your eyes are focused on Indrid. It seems almost involuntary, the way his normally relaxed and confident posture straightens, becomes nervous, and his wings flatten against his back. His red gaze darts about the room, registering each of the Sylvan Guard lined up along the carpeted hall.  _ This is what he grew up with _ , you think.  _ Surrounded by formality; pomp and circumstance _ . You step in closer against his side, hoping your presence is a comfort to him.

The way he spreads his mandibles slightly, an approximation of a small smile, tells you he’s grateful for your company.

The hall opens into the central chamber, where the gala is being held, and your jaw drops as the guards throw open the doors and you behold the scene before you. Most of the nobles and Sylphs living in the city have already arrived, milling about in their beautiful Sylvan garments; dresses and suits and wraps that complement each species’ form perfectly. There is a stage in the back of the chamber, with an orchestra setting up beside it, and tables piled high with food and drink along the sides, everything unfamiliar but delicious-looking. Orange lights hover above you, casting the whole room in the same hue as the crystal outside, bringing to mind the Goddess Herself. 

You can’t help but to let out a little “ _ wow _ ,” and Indrid turns to you with that same half-smile.

“Not much has changed in the last hundred years,” he laughs. “But it’s as beautiful as ever.”

“Heeeyyyy!!!” An excited voice interrupts, and you both turn to see Aubrey and Dani, running at you full speed. Aubrey is wearing a beautiful dress, shimmery in the same way as Indrid’s wrap, though more colorful; it complements her red hair and dark skin perfectly. Dani’s suit matches it in color, and here in her home world, her eyes glow brightly, fangs just barely poking out from between her lips when she smiles. Aubrey tackles Indrid in a hug, and then you. “Lookin’ good, you two! You really clean up nice!”

“Thank you,” you laugh. “You both look amazing, too!”

“Thanks!” They return. 

Dani takes Aubrey’s hand, and they share an adoring look. “Sylvain is really glad you’re here,” Aubrey says, “and so am I! This wouldn’t be a party without you.”

Indrid relaxes just a little bit more. “I’m honored,” he says. “I just hope you don’t expect me to get up and make a speech.”

Aubrey laughs. “No, I wouldn’t spring that on you. The Court is going to be invited to dance first thing, but after that you can wallflower all you want.”

“Dancing is... not my strong suit.”

“Ah, you’ll be fine. You’ve got a good dance partner.” She winks at you, and then grins at someone behind the two of you, waving. “Alright, I gotta go greet more people, I’ll talk to you again soon!” And with that, she pulls Dani off to talk to the next arriving party. 

Indrid sighs. “She will definitely give us shit if we skip the dance.”

You squeeze his hand, leading him to the nearest table. “Well, you know I love to dance with you. Everybody else doesn’t matter.”

He snorts. “If you can call what I do ‘dancing.’”

“You’re not as bad as you think you are. I’ll lead, and it’ll be over before you know it!”

The loud blowing of a horn makes all conversation in the room cease, and all heads turn to the stage as a smaller figure takes the... well, there’s no microphone, but her voice is magically enhanced as Alexandra speaks. “Welcome,” she says, her voice so young but so commanding, “to the first annual Gala of Sylvain. I am Alexandra, interpreter to Sylvain, and it is my honor to welcome you all to this joyous occasion.” 

She speaks a bit more, detailing the successes of the rebuilding committee, and the plans for the future. Although her speech is obviously rehearsed, you can tell that, young as she is, she means every word. Sylvain means so much to her, and the smile on her face is genuine as she says, “we now invite all members of the Court of Sylvain, past and present, to take to the dance floor. Let the party begin!”

Indrid stiffens, standing a bit awkwardly and offering you his hand. You take it, rising beside him, and he leads you to the floor, trying to hide in the middle of the crowd, but he’s so tall, there’s nowhere to hide. He places two hands on your waist, one on your shoulder, and the other takes your hand, gripping tightly.

“It’s okay,” you squeeze his hand where it holds yours, and all four of his squeeze back. “Don’t think about anyone else, okay? It’s just you and me. Look into my eyes.”

His gaze is nervous, intense; the glowing red searching your face for comfort. His antennae are flattened against his head, and you can feel the slight tremor in his hands. You take a deep breath, and nod for him to echo you. And the music begins. 

The swell of some beautiful instrument, Sylvan in nature, unplaceable to your human ears, fills your heart with love, and you take a step forward as Indrid takes a step back. You smile gently, holding his gaze with all the adoration you feel for him, and he relaxes minutely. 

_ Good _ . Another step, another deep breath, a widening smile. It feels so right, the way he holds you as the song starts slowly and gently, new instruments joining in and turning the sound to rich velvet, thrumming through the room and enveloping the two of you in a cloak of deep blue: calm, private, and so full of love. You step to the right, and he follows your lead, pulling you slightly closer as his hands steady on your waist. 

In his eyes is... wonder. Awe, somehow fragile and strong at the same time; he looks at you like you’re the whole world—bigger than Earth and Sylvain combined. Like you’re something precious, to be treasured and protected and  _ loved _ , above all else. Every point of connection between you, all four of his hands and both of yours, is an anchor, a tether, a feeling of magic—no love like this could be anything but the most perfect of fate, of synchronicity. The destiny you’ve made together binds you; the alchemical union of two souls into something new and wonderful, something complete and born of love.

The music builds to a crescendo, and the light in Indrid’s eyes brightens, a scarlet so deep and beautiful that you’re sure no other color could compare. The blue of the ocean, the green of new grass, the yellow of spring’s first flowers—none of it means a thing to you anymore. You’d gladly go blind for any hue besides this. 

He moves in perfect sync with you, his body responding to every step you take like you’ve rehearsed this a thousand times. Like it takes no effort at all. Like you know each other so well, you don’t even have to think; it’s pure movement, driven by love.

Your steps quicken as the music reaches an accelerando, and Indrid surprises you by lifting his arms from your waist and sending you into a twirl, his wings fluttering behind him in delight as you grin, almost breathless as his hands steady you once again. You’re closer than ever now, craning your neck to meet his gaze as he looks down at you, his mandibles spread in something akin to the wide grin he always wears in his human disguise. Happiness, devotion, worship; you can feel his emotions in every beat of the music flowing around you, every step of the dance, every breath you take in tandem—and you echo them back, breathing them into the space between you and filling the entire palace with love. 

There is nothing but this love, nothing but this dance, nothing but the two of you. The crescendo and decrescendo of the music, the rhythm of the song, the beating of your hearts.

And as the final note rings out, vibrato humming through the room before fading into silence, you’ve never felt so full of love. You don’t need to ask to know that Indrid feels the same.

The dance stops, and all around you, the room comes back to reality, all the guests applauding the orchestra and the gathered couples and nobles.

In the din of celebration, you laugh, and Indrid does too; and you realize that the two of you are bathed in an orange glow, a soft, magical aura that speaks of creation, of life, of true and perfect love. 

You’ve never felt the blessing of a Goddess before, but nonetheless, you are certain that this is the essence of Sylvain Herself, an acknowledgement of your love.

There’s no use in pretending your eyes aren’t welling up with tears, the force of emotion so strong that you want nothing more than to hold Indrid in your arms and kiss him like he’s air and you’re drowning. His answering hug, all four arms lifting you up and holding you tight, tells you  _ soon, once we’re away from the party and the prying eyes _ , and you nod, sniffling, as you press a chaste kiss between his compound eyes. 

The gazes of the audience, the court, are all on the two of you as he sets you down gently, leading you by the hand back to the edge of the room; the glowing aura of Sylvain slowly fading, though it leaves a pleasant tingle of magic hovering over your skin.

\---

There’s a slight chill in the air—not enough that it makes you long for your coat, but enough so that, when the breeze ruffles your clothes, you lean against Indrid’s side as goosebumps rise on your skin. One of his arms comes to rest on your waist, pulling you closer—sharing in your warmth as much as you’re sharing in his—and one of his wings shelters you from the wind. The stars are bright; brighter than you’ve ever seen them on Earth, and the panorama of the night sky is somehow both familiar and unfamiliar: the constellations you know and adore are absent, but your eyes trace new ones among the pinpricks of light and color that dot the darkness above. There isn’t a single cloud, leaving the beautiful display to come unobscured, and the anticipation makes you grin, excited.

You look up at Indrid, ready to voice your excitement, to ask how much longer until the show starts, but you find him already staring at you, his red gaze warm on your face. The expression in his eyes makes you blush—so openly in love, so awestruck, it makes your smile wobbly and your knees weak. 

“What?” You ask, grinning.

“Nothing,” he replies sweetly, though he doesn’t tear his gaze from yours, nor does the look in his eyes become any less lovey-dovey. 

Embarrassed, you hug him tighter, hiding your reddened face from his view as he laughs quietly. 

The first firework lights up the sky, pink sparkling energy exploding outward and leaving shimmering trails where it falls, and your eyes snap upward as you grip Indrid’s hand in excitement. There’s no  _ boom _ , not like the fireworks on Earth, only a gentle  _ hiss _ as energy is released from the spell—you can barely hear it over the chatter of the crowd.

The display lights up the sky in fantastic hues—reds and blues and yellows and everything in between; sparkling white that mimics the stars and multicolored flowers that bloom in the air. You squeeze Indrid’s hand at each one, a wordless communication of your wonder and awe as you keep your gaze locked onto the show.

You’ve never seen something so beautiful—never felt such love. And as the night comes to an end, you find yourself clinging to Indrid’s hand, a dopey smile on your face the whole way back to the lodge, and then back home. 

As soon as you’re past the threshold, Indrid grins widely, sweeping you into a kiss that’s been building all night. 

“Thank you,” he whispers against your lips. 

“For what?”

“For making that bearable.” He laughs, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “I can’t imagine having to do that without you.”

You kiss him again. “You know I only want to make things easier for you. I want to make you feel safe, and happy. Besides, I had a lot of fun.”

He lifts you into the air with supernatural ease. “You do, you make me so happy. And I’m so glad you had fun.”

“Well,” you say, with one more kiss to the tip of his nose, “I had fun, but...”

“ _ But I’m excited to change into my pjs _ ,” Indrid finishes with you. “Yes, thank god, let’s do that.” He sets you down, laughing, but doesn’t let go of your hand as you lead him to the bedroom to change out of your formal clothes. 

Special events like this aren’t bad when you have someone to keep you company, Indrid decides—and especially not when there’s the promise of cuddling in your pajamas afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting from mobile bc I’m at the airport! Trying to get home right now is a little nerve wracking.  
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I haven’t been able to shake the idea of dancing together at a fancy gala and I’m!! BIG heart eyes emoji.  
As always, you can find me on [tumblr](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/), or join our discord, Indridfuckers Inc. <3


	22. Come to my Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are going to have a nightmare. Or... you were. But not if Indrid has anything to say about it. (Pre-relationship, sharing a bed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thinking about [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FaY5-LGYJKc) song...

_Your arms and legs twitch as you lie paralyzed by sleep, and the rapid back-and-forth of your eyes beneath closed lids proves your dreaming state—but, judging by the way you flinch and gasp in fear, that dream is clearly unpleasant. Your movements begin to grow more erratic, more wild, more afraid, and then, you’re screaming as you wake, bolting upright in your bed with wild eyes as you search the darkness in confusion, in horror. Realization dawns on you slowly, the landscape of your nightmare fading as reality seeps in. You gather your blankets about yourself, hugging your knees to your chest as the tears begin to fall. The alarm clock on your bedside table reads 3:06 A.M, and you are alone as a sob wracks your body._

With a shudder, Indrid opens his eyes. The clock on _his_ bedside table reads 2:49 A.M. He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking off sleep and trying to make sense of his vision. A quick glimpse into the near future shows that he can make it in time; that he’ll have to fly; that it’s cold outside—but he doesn’t need to think twice about it. He shuffles out of bed, doesn’t bother putting on his shoes, and takes off his glasses as he opens the door to the Winnebago.

\-----

You’re startled awake by a noise at your window. You don’t register it, at first; waking slowly with the vague feeling that you had been in the midst of a bad dream—nothing memorable, just the afterimage of some slight unhappiness—but the sound comes again, a tapping from outside, a familiar rhythm. A flash of red.

Frowning, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, shoving your bare feet into fuzzy slippers. You know exactly who it is—even without the distinctive knock, you only know of one person who can reach your window on the third story of the apartment building—but the question remains: why is he here at three in the goddamn morning?

Your first thought is one of panic: something must be wrong. He must have seen something bad, and now he’s here to warn you of an imminent house fire, or gas leak, or earthquake. 

Your second thought is more of a _hope_: much more exciting than disaster, and much more amorous; but you shove that one down as quickly as you can.

With a soft red glow to guide you, you cross the room quickly and pull open the window.

“Hello,” Indrid says pleasantly. “Sorry to wake you.”

A cold breeze blows through the room, and you shiver in your thin cotton pajamas. “Indrid?” You say, though it’s less a question and more a demand for context. “Is something wrong?”

He bobs up and down in midair as the steady beat of his moth-like wings keeps him aloft, and he’s twiddling all four of his thumbs nervously as he holds his glamoured glasses. “Ah, well... not anymore,” he says, and when you blink in sleepy confusion, he continues, “I saw... you. Having a nightmare. A very bad one, evidently. You were going to be very upset by it. I... _You came to wake me up before that happened._” He says with you. “Yes. I did.”

If there was any part of you that was mad about being woken up in the middle of the night, it’s already been wiped away, your cheeks warming at his thoughtfulness. “Indrid, I...” Is there anyway to say this without sounding like you’re head over heels in love with him? 

Probably not. 

“You... came all this way just so that I wouldn’t be sad?”

He nods.

The butterflies in your stomach take flight as you smile shyly. “Thank you. That’s... probably the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

His antennae flatten against his head as he makes a quiet chirping sound, and you can read the emotion loud and clear: he’s _bashful_.

Another cold gust of wind comes through the window, fluttering the curtains and making Indrid’s mandibles chatter.

“Oh!” You realize, belatedly, “Indrid, you must be freezing!”

“A little bit,” he admits, “but there’s no need to—”

You’re already across the room. “I’ll come unlock the door—”

“No, really, it’s not a long flight—”

“Don’t be ridiculous! You came all this way,” You’re looking over your shoulder, stepping into the hallway—

“Alright,” he relents. “Just—”

Indrid puts on his glasses and drops from your view.

Your stomach lurches, and you’re back at the window in an instant, leaning over the sill to find...

Indrid, in his human disguise, hanging from the windowsill and grinning that too-wide grin that makes your heart flutter.

He pulls himself up, peeking his head back through the window, and you huff in exasperation (and no small amount of fondness). “Jeez, you almost gave me a heart attack!” 

“I can’t fit through the window in my true form,” he says, as if this was the only reasonable course of action.

You can’t help but to laugh as he hoists himself up and through the window—almost gracefully, despite the fact that the opening is small and he’s all long limbs and angles—and shuts it behind him, giving a little bow as if to say, “_tah-dah!_”

_What a goof._

_A sweet, adorable, awkward goof who you’re _definitely_ in love with._

To hide the blush rising in your cheeks, you turn back to the bed, grabbing a blanket—Indrid’s shivering now, his arms wrapped around himself, less able to keep warm without the fluff that covers his true form—it still holds the heat of your sleeping body. Gingerly, you drape it around his shoulders, and he stoops to allow you to pull it tight. 

“There,” you whisper, nearly breathless at the proximity. 

“Thank you,” he breathes, just as low and quiet, and you wonder if he feels it too: the palpable tension between the two of you, stretched taut like a rubber band. 

Maybe it isn’t all in your head. 

All you would need to do is press onto your tiptoes, and you’d be kissing his grinning face...

But you don’t. You aren’t brave enough. You aren’t sure enough that he feels the same.

You turn your head, blushing madly, as Indrid melts into the warmth of your blanket.

Gathering your wits as quickly as you can, you sit down on the bed, patting the sheets next to you, motioning for Indrid to do the same.

“Really, Indrid,” you say with a smile that’s half gratitude and half longing, “_it was really sweet of you to come._” He finishes your sentence with you, and it doesn’t matter how many times he does it, your heart still skips a beat every time. 

“It’s no trouble,” he assures you, tapping his temple with his index finger. “What better use for my abilities than to help the people I... care about?”

He paused, and you get the feeling that “care about” wasn’t his first choice of words, but you can’t allow yourself to overthink it.

“Besides,” he says. “I know a thing or two about nightmares.”

Your smile twists sadly, and you hope it isn’t crossing a line to take his hand and squeeze it. “Well, if I knew when you were gonna have a bad dream, I’d knock on your window, too.”

Indrid laughs. “I know you would.”

Neither of you speak for a moment; and neither of you pull away from where your hands are interlocked. Your eyes are beginning to feel heavy again—it _is_ three in the morning, after all—and you think Indrid is feeling tired, too: he’s leaning into you, probably subconsciously, as he warms up from his flight through the chilly nighttime air. The thought strikes you that you could fall asleep like this: leaning against each other in the darkness, hand in hand.

“Hey, Indrid,” you whisper, because saying it any louder would feel too brave.

“Hmm?”

“I’m going back to bed.”

“Ah,” he says, “then I’ll get going—”

Heart hammering in your chest, you don’t let go of his hand. “It’s cold,” you remind him. “There’s only a few hours til daylight. You could stay... if you want.”

He audibly gulps, hesitates; and your stomach gives an embarrassed lurch. You’re about to backtrack, say that it was a silly idea, of course he doesn’t want to stay—but then he squeezes your hand, and the words die on your tongue. “Okay,” Indrid says, and suddenly you’re warm all over.

If he can feel the way your skin burns as you lie back down, he certainly doesn’t say so—nor does he protest that he could go sleep on the couch. You have the feeling that he might have wanted to, but you also know that you wouldn’t have let him—you’d sooner take the couch yourself than make him sleep there. Maybe he saw that, and maybe he’s too tired to argue—again, it _is_ three in the morning. Or... maybe, _just maybe_, he wants to be with you, the same way you want to be with him. 

Regardless of his reasoning, regardless of whether his feelings for you are platonic or something more, he allows you to pull him down onto the bed, allows you to pull the covers over you both and snuggle into the warmth of your sheets, still a respectful distance apart despite everything in you begging to curl up in his embrace. But you don’t know if he wants the same. That strange feeling of something stretched between you comes upon you again, and it’s all too easy to imagine that something has you tied together, something reaching from your heartstrings to his.

In the darkness of the night, he’s just a silhouette, gray in the dim light from the street lamps outside your closed blinds, but you know he’s looking at you from the way his eyes are glowing faintly behind his glasses. You can’t see it in the daytime, not in his human disguise, but now there’s nothing to obscure the hint of red light that accompanies his gaze. It’s mesmerizing. 

“Indrid,” you whisper again.

He hums, so deep and low that it’s almost a purr.

There’s so much you wish you could say. _I love you_ is on the tip of your tongue, or maybe just _come here_. But you can’t say that. Not yet. Hopefully, though, he knows what you mean when you say, “thank you.”

In the darkness, you can’t see Indrid’s smile. But you hear it in his voice, quiet and sure, when he takes your hand again and says, “of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First note: it's been a while!! i haven't been writing much lately, what with... *gestures broadly to the world* BUT im here now! and hopefully i'll have some more new stuff soon!!  
Second note: yes, this is the last chapter of this one shot collection BUT DO NOT FEAR!!! i'm not stopping writing indrid x reader stuff, i just felt like this fic was getting really long and i hate having unfinished fics lol. I haven't decided if I'm gonna start a new one shot collection, or if I'll be posting new one shots separately, but when i figure that out, i'll let you know!  
Third note: I did change my url on tumblr a couple weeks ago, which means i need to go back through all my fics and update links. but! my new url is [here!](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> I have, no joke, written like, 20 pages of stuff like this in the past week. Being a self-shipper is so good, y'all.  
Thank you so much for reading, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed my little self indulgent nonsense! I have several more drabbles and one shots that I plan on polishing up to post as a part of this series, so please stay tuned!  
my indrid cold x self insert playlist is [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6lWUxlSscfPtXkUND6z22z?si=2PDQFehITsOzs-r59T9vVQ)  
And as always, hit me up on my [tumblr!](https://extraterrestrial-apis.tumblr.com/)


End file.
